


Shade of the Soul

by Fether



Series: Of the Souls [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Reader Is Frisk, Slow Burn, Suffering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-04-27 17:31:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 66,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5057515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fether/pseuds/Fether
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life back in the human world is now different for you. Since your soul was separated from your body, and you actually succeeded (for the most part) in living without losing your soul, as well as rescuing everyone, you developed a special ability upon your return.</p><p>It was peaceful for a time, but there is a lingering feeling that you can't shake off that something dark is headed your way...</p><p> </p><p>    <i>* tag changed to Explicit for adult themes, ugly racism, and more graphic scenes in the future.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Jumping on the bandwagon, but going a different direction than most other people have. I've been thinking about this concept for a while, and really wanted to write it, so I hope you enjoy!
> 
> This is also my first time writing in this style, so any constructive crits are welcome. Thank you!

**Prologue**

 

 

Your heart is in the wrong place.

 

Ever since traversing the Underworld, your body was changed – you weren't sure if it was for the better, or the worse.

 

Landing in Underworld the first time had a major effect on your body in the first place – when in their world, your heart lay on the outside of your body, instead of nestled in your chest where it was supposed to be. It was a strange feeling at first, but one you had gradually become used to.

 

The ability had never really changed, but now it was able to be controlled.

 

It took years of practice. Years of studying. Years of... _l i v i n g_.

 

Even now, you wear it on your sleeve – your hand is raised high in the darkness of the woods, the light shining from your soul resting on your wrist as a glowing fire flickered around your heart and hand, revealing the way so that you could see easier in the darkness.

 

The darkness seems to eat at your fire, almost wanting to devour your heart, as if it would make the perfect appetizer for the endless dark maw that covers the forest beyond the light.

 

Sans is supposed to meet you here.

 

He was supposed to meet you here... _hours_ ago. Where _was_ he?

 

You hadn't seen him for quite some time.

 

A sudden laughter comes from the darkness – it is vaguely familiar, but haunting enough to feel the vibrations of the laugh crawling down your back. It's an eerie feeling, one that is hauntingly recognizable, but one you have never experienced personally.

 

“Can... you feel... your sins... crawling... on... your... back...?”

 

You whirl around, eyes blind past the light that shines from your soul – you can't see into the darkness like most of the monsters can.

 

You are at a disadvantage, despite everything you've been through.

 

“Friiissssssk...” The same voice continues, elongating the hissing sound in the syllables of your name. “You... were... supposed... to... be... _m i n e_...”

 

And in the darkness, solidifying itself, a knife hanging limply from your hand, you see... _you._

 

 

 


	2. Memories and Phone Calls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, as well as figuring out what everyone was up to years later.
> 
> The next chapter will be coming very soon... stay tuned!

**Chapter 2 – Memories and Phone Calls**

 

You wake up in a cold sweat, jerking up in your bed and clutching the base of your throat as you nearly scream in terror. You've been having the same dream for weeks now, unable to shake the dreadful feeling that something bad was heading your way. Why else would nightmares be plaguing your each and every sleeping moment?

 

It had been years since you and your impromptu family had moved to the human world, and Toriel had been more than happy to be called your mother, delighting in the fact that she could raise someone “with such a kind soul”. Often times you didn't see where she was coming from, but you treated everyone with respect and kindness, only wanting to be treated the same in return. It was, in simple terms, _karma_.

 

And seeing as how you didn't have a human family anymore due to being an orphan... well. The family part was taken care of once you broke the surface.

 

Unfortunately, time passed by far too quickly for your liking – you were in college now, attending courses on otherworldly theories as well as classes on the paranormal and physics. It was all very interesting, but you had the feeling that Sans would have been far more invested in these types of things more than you were. Your eyes landed on the stack of textbooks sitting on the nightstand next to your bed.

 

The textbooks were very informational, even if a bit outdated about monsters – you found that you knew a fair bit more about the monsters than what was in the actual textbooks written by professors, due to having experienced it firsthand. And they were _paid_ for it!

 

Getting your erratic breathing under control and closing your eyes, you concentrate and calm yourself as you will your soul to appear, breathing out as it shimmers to life in front of you, in between your open palms. You stare at it, still in awe at the sight as you were the first moment you found out that you still had this 'ability'. Your heart floats there, pulsing faintly as it responds to your will.

 

Soulfire, you'd called it once, just in a passing thought. You could call your soul out and create fire – it was different than Toriel's attack, different than Asriel's... yours was unique, a fire that stayed put and could not be thrown. It could burn hands, probably, but it kept yours warm. It moved _with_ your heart and not _away_ from it, like most monster attacks you'd had the experience of encountering in the past.

 

No one else knew about it, since you were very careful to keep it hidden from anyone who was a little over curious. Having a heart that was out in the open in the Underworld had proven dangerous for humans, and you have _no idea_ what the consequences would be up in the human world if someone got wind of this ability.

 

Yes, you had returned, but you hadn't really... changed _back_. Your soul could still be called forth and used in various ways as you had done below ground, but as for returning to normal?

 

You know you're as far from normal as you'll ever get.

 

Sighing, you let go of your soul and let it retreat back into your body, shivering slightly and shaking your head, trying to let the memories of the dream dissipate into the darkest crevasses of your mind. You don't want to revisit them again if you can help it.

 

Reaching up, you massage your temples and stretch out in bed, flopping back and staring at the ceiling. You realize that you miss your family, not knowing how long it's been since you've contacted them last. You miss Toriel most of all, and Sans, for his humor... Papyrus, too. Even though his spaghetti used to be terrible (though it had gotten slightly better over the years due to your convincing him that humans had to have flavors in the form of spices), you found yourself missing _his_ food, as well.

 

Alphys and Undyne are quite the fun pair to hang around despite their habits of watching bad anime; you know that Mettaton is off on a tour putting on shows for his fans; Napstablook's music is always unique and awesome to listen to; Asgore loves doing garden work and often lost track of time whenever he started on a project...

 

Hell, you miss everyone.

 

Even the Monster Kid who's name was actually... Kid.

 

Last time you saw Kid, Alphys had built them a pair of robot arms similar to Mettaton's, after a passing idea said aloud from yours truly. The small monster had been watching Mettaton and becoming awed with him (along with Papyrus, of course), and the next thing they knew, they were gifted a set of arms made by Alphys.

 

It didn't help their clumsiness much in the beginning, but it helped them get up a lot faster, once they'd gotten used to the extra appendages. Balancing was the next step.

 

Doggo had gotten a job as a coach for the track team at the school Toriel taught at, which you thought was the perfect job for him, with his issue of not seeing things unless they moved. If the kids weren't running, Doggo would _get_ them to run, which had been... rather _interesting_ to watch.

 

Especially with his seeing-eye dog.

 

Dogamy and Dogaressa were assitant teachers next to Toriel, and loved the kids as much as Toriel did (though you couldn't blame them – the younger ones seemed to love giving them head pats every day).

 

Rubbing your face and groaning as you use your hand to shoo away the mental thoughts, you let out a large yawn and crawl out of bed to take a quick shower before relaxing for the day.

 

It's luckily your day off – no college, and no work. You never _had_ to work thanks to Toriel helping you out monetarily, her being a teacher and all, but it helped alleviate the boredom so you weren't left staring at the wall feeling sorry for yourself, or allowing the nightmares to take over.

 

It doesn't take long for you to scrub out what little shampoo you have left into your hair, rinsing it off with ease – you had kept your hair short for the simplicity of it. Long hair was just too hard to take care of for the amount of work you have to do in college, not to mention the constant traveling as Ambassador. Granted, it's a bit shorter than you usually like it – a pixie cut – but you find it nice during the fall season to just get out of the apartment and not have to spend any extra time prepping your looks.

 

Using the towel to tousle your hair dry, you wrap the towel around your body twice, silently reveling in the fact that you had gotten a large enough towel that you could actually accomplish that. You walk to your closet and stare at the clothing hanging there, shoulders slumping as you stare with dull eyes.

 

What do you want to wear today? You really have no idea. Something casual, for sure, but you just feel... lazy.

 

You really don't want to get dressed right now.

 

Wandering back over to the bed, you grab your phone off of the nightstand and stare at it for a good moment until you flop down on the bed, rolling over onto your back.

 

Sans usually texts you bad jokes now and then, but oddly enough, you haven't really heard from the skeleton in a while. You know you mentioned to him about your exams coming up in a few days, so you figure that he was giving you a little space to study and actually pass them. However... not hearing from the comic at _all_ makes you a little depressed.

 

You _like_ hearing from Sans. He makes you happy. _Both_ of the skeleton brothers make you happy.

 

You feel yourself blush as your thoughts wander to the fact that you'd dated them _both_. Papyrus, with the date happening in his room, and Sans, in the expensive restaurant... you honestly had no idea how Sans had pulled it off, but you did know for a fact that Papyrus had never really returned your crush on him. Luckily for you, it was only a crush, and Papyrus made for a better friend anyway, even if the date was a little... strange.

 

With Sans, you have no idea where you stand with him. He took you out on a date, sure, but... he never really stated if he liked you or not. Sans had just... left you hanging. Wondering. Contemplating what could have been.

 

You were a kid then, but now that you'd grown up...

 

Groaning and stretching a little to prolong what you knew you had to do, you sigh and droop before moving to make a phone call.

 

It rings for a long time.

 

You frown at the phone before lowering it, hanging up before it transfers to voice mail, depression seeping into your realization that maybe they hadn't wanted to talk after all.

 

You nearly jump in alarm as the phone suddenly rings, vibrating in your hand before it falls onto your chest, making you yelp in pain. You had forgotten how heavy cell phones were, and you were certain that it would leave a slight bruise later.

 

Managing to grasp the phone to the best of your ability and turn it on, you answer with hope and determination in your voice.

 

“H-hello?”

 

“hiya kiddo! how is everything going? i'm sorry i missed your call, papyrus was trying to wrestle the phone from me when he found out who was actually calling.”

 

“I MISS YOU HUMAN! YOU HAVE TO COME BACK TO TRY MY NEW SPAGHETTI! IT'S A NEW RECIPE!”

 

“... yeeeeah. that's a thing now. ever since you got him hooked on those cooking shows, he's tried to force feed us his experiments. hey, did i tell you my new joke? what do you call a fake noodle?”

 

“OH MY GOD SANS DON'T YOU DARE-”

 

“an impasta.”

 

“SANS YOU ARE SO DISAPPOINTING.”

 

Stifling a laugh, you choke back a sob and hold the phone closer to your ear, despite how loud Papyrus' voice was. You really miss them both, and you can't keep yourself from crying over how much you missed them.

 

“Hey kiddo, what's wrong?” Sans' voice was serious now, and you could hear his bone joints pop as he shifted the phone.

 

“I m-miss you guys,” You hiccup, curling up in the bed. “Sans, I... I had a nightmare again. They came back.”

 

The phone became dead quiet. There are a few moments of silence until you open your mouth to speak, still hesitating, your breath wafting over the receiver.

 

“Do you want me to come over.” It wasn't a question, but it wasn't quite a statement, either.

 

You think about this, and let out a sigh. “... no. I'm coming back in about a week anyway. My exams are almost over and I'll be staying for the winter. I'll be f-fine, Sans.” Your voice is still shaking and wavering, and you reach up to wipe tears from your face, feeling your eyes burn.

 

“Let me know if anything changes.” There was something in Sans' voice that you can't quite place, but you don't have the heart to pursue it at this particular moment to find out what it is.

 

“Y-yeah. Okay, S-sans.” Still rubbing your eyes, your shoulders slump. “I'll... I guess I'll see you soon, right?”

 

“yeah buddy. see you soon.” The lighthearted manner of Sans' voice returns, but you can't shake the nagging feeling that the skeleton is keeping something from you.

 

After a yelled goodbye from Papyrus, the phone disconnects. You are left with a feeling of despair.

 

In the sinking moment after hanging up the phone, you feel no determination to get through your day.

 

 


	3. Truths and Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! This became... a little longer than I was expecting, but it adds a lot of plot and depth to the story that I didn't have yet. I wanted to set the stage.
> 
> Things have to get worse before they get better.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Chapter 3 – Truths and Consequences**

 

 

It was a few days later that you began to feel a little better, your mind seeming to give you a break from the nightmares. For once.

 

By this time, you'd completed your last assignments and reports needed to pass the class, and were on your way to the school to complete your last day before packing your things to leave.

 

Most of the classes were uneventful as you arrive and attend them, and often times you find yourself staring at the clock tapping your pencil, not really gaining much notice from anyone else – you had always been a daydreamer.

 

The last class of the day was with a teacher you didn't favor so well, but tried to show respect anyway.

 

Sadly, it was an oral report. You stood up and walked to the front of the class, holding your paper in front of you to read from. You had always been nervous about giving speeches, and being the ambassador for the monsters hadn't helped things any – you still got nervous, you still made mistakes, you still stuttered in your speech sometimes... but people _listened_ to you. Sometimes they argued, but they gave you their time and listened to what you had to say.

 

You clear your throat, thumping your chest lightly as you mentally brace yourself.

 

“The War. There is no glorious name for it – it was simply known as 'The War', the legendary clash between Humans and Monsters.” You pause for a moment, your skin becoming hot as you saw that every eye was on you. “D-d... due to our – _their_ powerful souls and physical nature, humans easily overcame the monsters and banished them to the underground, where a barrier was placed to prevent them from returning. The Humans, having lost a great number of their own, were left with distaste in their mouths and dark feelings towards the Monsters. The Monsters, however, blamed the humans' lust for war and power, taking a vengeful outlook on the species as a whole. This bitterness, after the fall of King Asgore's two sons, one human and one monster, led him to kill all humans that fell from Mt. Ebott from that point on. He wanted to inspire hope for his fellow monsters, his people, and his aim was to collect seven human souls to break the barrier and free his subjects, destroy the threat of humanity, and live in peace once and for all.”

 

Your eyes shone as you put down your paper, already knowing the last paragraph by heart.

 

“The last human that fell down from Mt. Ebott... was the last soul that King Asgore needed. However, by the power of _determination,_ the human convinced every monster along their way that there was no need to fight, and no need to despair when there was so much hope coming from one child.”

 

You pause, feeling strength in your words. Every eye was still on you, most of the other students staring with awe. _This_ was the reason you wrote the report – you wanted to inspire, to encourage... to help thwart the stereotypes that the humans had put on the monster race as a whole. To end the fighting and minor disputes. To _help._

 

“The human marched right up to the King and refused to fight him, even when he would show no mercy. Eventually, they _did_ have to fight him, but... when on his last legs, they showed him Mercy, even after all the terrible things he'd done.” Your hand falls to your side. You had to lie about this part, closing your eyes for a brief moment as you lowered your head.

 

“The barrier was broken by that act of kindness. Asgore took pity on the human who spared him, and they all moved to the surface for a better life. They now reside in a town beside Mt. Ebott, as well as scattered throughout a few cities nearby. Most are very friendly, if you just give them a chance... most simply just want to talk.” You shrug, and take a slight bow as applause rang out for the end of your report. You turn to hand in your report to the teacher, raising an eyebrow as she glanced over it with distaste after your speech. Her lip curls up in a false snarl.

 

“Your report is incomplete.” The teacher stated to you, arms crossed over her chest as she stares at you with disapproving eyes. The report hung from two of her fingers, sagging in them as if she was going to drop them at any moment. Did she have to do this in front of the class?

 

“H-how is it incomplete? I put in information from the books including my own personal dealings-” You start to say, only to be interrupted.

 

“That's the problem. You should stick to the textbooks instead of weaving fantasy and fiction into a report. This was supposed to be a biography, not a short fiction story.” The teacher raises an eyebrow at you, her disapproval wafting off of her like an overdose of bad perfume.

 

You have never liked this teacher due to her misunderstanding of monsters, as well as her racial bias against them altogether. Sadly, you have been used to this thing for quite a while, being an ambassador of the monsters, trying very hard to keep the peace as best you could.

 

It wasn't working out as well as you thought it would.

 

At first, people were haughty and against the monsters altogether until you stepped forward and spoke up for them, inciting that the monsters were there to live without strife and not cause any problems for humans. As a human, this gave you a little clout. Not much, but a little. Unfortunately, in the case of living without strife... the same couldn't be said for the actual humans, with the views they held against the monsters.

 

It had been hard, being an ambassador when you were merely a child of twelve and no parents... save for the monster who was more than happy to have you call her mother.

 

It had taken a lot of talking and convincing on your part.

 

 _A lot_.

 

It had also taken a lot of meetings with important people like the president, army sergeants, well-known celebrities... and other such figures, trying to ease them into the realization that monsters were now a part of human society again, and they would just have to get used to that. (Of course, you said it in a much nicer manner, but your mental thoughts were sometimes more depressing than your actual speech.)

 

It had also taken years for most of the hatred and animosity to go away, but... there were still lingering doubts in a small scattered amount of people, racism against the monsters rampant throughout certain families while others were just against anything new altogether. Why couldn't the monsters go back where they came from, some wondered, while others hummed and hawed in the safety of their own homes, coming up with their own speculations. Ignoring the “problem” instead of dealing with it or trying to get along.

 

Even now, seeing some bias among humans against the monsters without knowing them, you are with determination, and you aren't about to start letting it go to waste. The textbooks only had so much information, but seeing as they were _human_ textbooks... well. Of course the human textbooks would spin the story to view your fellow monsters in a more terrible light.

 

“I'm sorry,” You state after a moment's hesitation, nothing but ice in your chilled words. “Let me edit and take out everything but what I've read in the textbook. It's obvious that my opinion does not matter here.”

 

“That is correct, Miss Dreemurr. Your opinion has no place in this class.” The rest of the students at their desks were quiet, watching the scene with wide eyes. Some looked angered, others looked like they wanted to say something but were too afraid to speak up.

 

“Funny. I thought that's what speeches were for.” You retort, a bit snappishly. You take the report back to your desk and sat down roughly, glancing to the left and right but... no one was willing to meet your eyes. Your shoulders slumped. How were you supposed to be a good ambassador if everyone was so set in their ways, and unwilling to change, or unwilling to speak their minds? The monsters had been very receiving to you, but when it came to your own actual kind... it was like hitting a brick wall. Over, and over... and over again.

 

Frustrated and rubbing your fingers into your hair in a nervous, frustrated gesture, you take your marker and crossed out the bits you had added yourself. It didn't take you that long to weed down the report – normally you would have edited it on the computer, but the teacher was adamant about receiving it right then and there, despite the speech you gave.

 

Hell, you might score a few extra points with the mark outs, considering how much she didn't like you or your affiliation with your family of monsters. Hell, you were _adopted_ into a family of monsters, and you even had their last name.

 

It was racial bias, and there was jack you could do about it. Hopefully, you at least inspired _someone_ in that class.

 

After that, the class period went by fairly quickly, and you handed the report back in before slinging your backpack over your shoulder, breathing out a sigh of relief as realization sets in that your classes were officially over. You shoved the satisfied and stuck up _'told you so'_ look from the teacher to the back of your mind, more than happy to escape.

 

It was technically winter break, and all of your other professors had let you leave class early – it was late fall, almost winter, and you intended to spend your break at home with your family.

 

But first... you had to do a little shopping.

 

You had given your job a notice of your break, letting them know you wouldn't be in town – they had no problem with that, having hired some temporary workers to help deliver pizzas, but it left you with enough spending money that you could bring home gifts for everyone.

 

It was funny, now that you think back on it... you had searched for a long time for a simple job to do, because you had never expected to be paid as an ambassador (until recently, you had gotten no money until you just randomly received one in the mail, and THAT was a surprise)... the pizza place was stunned to find _Frisk,_ the freaking _Ambassador of the Monsters,_ applying there.

 

For God's sake, it was a _pizza place_. The owner had looked at you dumbfounded in the interview, setting your application on the counter as he sighed.

 

“Frisk. Frisk.... _why_ of all places do you want to work _here_?”

 

“I want to make a difference everywhere I go.” Was your simple reply. And you were hired.

 

Sighing at the fond memory, the interaction in your last class still bothered you, but you stopped by home first to drop off your school bag, grabbed your money and headed back out to the shopping mall district to glance over the sales and deals they had going before Christmas arrived.

 

Shopping always eased your mind – especially when you were shopping for someone else. It always made you happy to see the look on others faces when you gave them something, not expecting anything in return.

 

The array of stores were vast, and you ducked in and out of a few of them, not really finding anything of importance right away. A wonderful smell suddenly assaulted your nose, and you found yourself almost floating towards the fragrance – it was a bakery shop that had various cakes and pies for sale, along with some spices that they used in their baked goods.

 

“How much for the spices?” You ask the cashier, a smile spreading on your face. The place smelled just so _divine,_ and you kind of wished that Toriel was here to see and smell it for herself.

 

“Seven fifty each, sweetheart,” Came the clerk's reply, and your mind instantly thought of Mettaton, your smile faltering for a moment.

 

“Okay, thank you. May I get two containers of the cinnamon spice, and two of the butterscotch chips?”

 

“Of course, darling! Here you are, your total is $30.” Gladly paying so you could leave, you collected your purchase and couldn't retreat from there fast enough – her speech and mannerisms reminded you far too much of the robot you came to admire and love, and you found yourself missing your friends all over again.

 

You hadn't been keeping much touch with anyone lately, and began to feel very bad about it. You could feel your smile disappearing, shoulders slumping over as you continued on to another shop.

 

Clothing hung on every rack, and you glanced up to read the slogans on the tee-shirts, covering your mouth as you tried to stifle a laugh at the pun on the shirt that read _Bone to be Wild_ . Oh man, Sans would _love_ this! You pick it up and glance around a little more, finding a turtleneck that was a lovely shade of ivory. Thinking for a moment, you finally nod to yourself – Sans' turtleneck that he wore all the time was getting a little... dingy, and you had to agree with yourself that he most definitely needed a new one.

 

You approach the register to pay for the items, not really caring about the price – you wanted to surprise everyone and try to make them happy that they actually got something.

 

Papyrus was next, and you were at a real loss for what to get him, standing in the main hallway that led to the various stores around the mall. You'd gotten something for Toriel and Sans so far, but... everyone else? You really had no idea. Alphys was easy – so was Undyne. Figuring that you might as well buy their gifts and get them out of the way, you stopped at the anime store and grabbed a few figurines of Alphys' favorite series _Kissy Mew Mew_ , and then to another strange store full of fun girly grunge clothing that was still stylish.

 

Yeah, this kind of grunge clothing was right up Undyne's alley – you remember a moment where she tried to get you to wear the same thing, but it just... hadn't gone well with your slightly darker skin and fluffy hair that just wouldn't stay out of your face.

 

You choose two shirts that you thought would look pretty fun, make sure you have the right size and pay for them before you leave the store.

 

Moving to sit on one of the benches, you sigh and put your head in your hands, the bags settled in your lap so no one would make off with them. Only a few more presents to get, and then you'd head home. Just a few more. You could get the rest later, right?

 

You start to shake, and realize that you just can't deal with being out with people anymore. The class, the meetings, the looks you were getting from people around you... it was all too much. You didn't have too many breakdowns anymore, but the ones that did seep through got you in such a bad place that you just couldn't deal with life in that rare moment.

 

You pick up your bags and head back home, swaying slightly as you fight to keep on your feet. The nightmare that plagued you the night before came back full force, and you couldn't shake the feeling of something crawling down your back, making your spine itch.

 

You hated that feeling. It felt like sins were crawling along your back, but they were sins that weren't your own...

 

Opening the door to your apartment, you drop the bags next to the door and lock it, leaning against it as you take a shaky breath to attempt to calm your nerves.

 

A voice breaks into your thoughts, panic setting in – you were not alone in your own room.

 

 

“hey buddy. if you keep going the way you are now... **y o u ' r e g o n n a h a v e a _b a d t i m e_ **.”

 


	4. Secrets no More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The comments REALLY mean a lot to me, even if I can't get to them all or think of what to say other than 'thank you'.
> 
> So... thank you, from the bottom of my soul! I <3 you guys.

**Chapter 4 – Secrets no More**

 

The words hit home, and you break into tears, a panic setting in that you didn't know you had. You stare and see Sans standing in the corner, and for a split moment, you see his left eye glowing blue...

 

You blink away tears and it's gone.

 

“hey. hey, i was kidding... but it really looks like you're having a rough time. wanna talk about it?” His eyes look apologetic as he approaches you, hands outstretched as if to grasp your own. You take them without hesitation, squeezing them before throwing your arms around him and hugging him tightly. A gruff huff of surprise escapes him and a moment passes before he wraps his arms around you in return, his fingers rubbing over your back gently.

 

“hey, kiddo... what's really the matter here?” Your throat is raw, and all you can do in reply is groan a cry out in your throat, your chest heaving with sobs you had been holding back for god knew  _ how _ long.

 

Sans kept holding you, his voice solid and supportive, but a lilt of sadness laced over his words. “i'm here for you, kiddo. just... just take your time. get it all out.” Sans enforced his words with a pat on your back, leading you over to the bed and sitting you down as he sits next to you. Everything he did was gentle – his eyes stared right at you, worrying.

 

“Sans... this whole Ambassador thing. I... it's hard. I don't think I can... keep up like this.” Your crying had ceased for now, and you reached up to wipe away your tears with the palm of your hand. “I'm failing, Sans, and I don't know what to do about it. I'm trying so hard to get monsters and humans to live together, but there's so much  _ hatred  _ that I didn't know would be there...”

 

“well, not everyone is  _ you _ , frisk.” Sans reached up with both of his hands to tilt your head his direction, looking at you straight on. His eyes were light now, paired with the forever-etched grin on his skull. “you have so much determination. you have so much love. don't throw it all away just because you hit a rough patch, huh, buddy?”

 

You close your eyes, leaning into his tender hands. “I don't know, Sans. I'm just... I feel like I'm at a brick wall and I keep having these nightmares that just won't go away, and it makes everything  _ worse  _ because I don't know how to deal with them to  _ make  _ them go away.” You wince as his hands stiffen against your face, a sharp breath hissed out from your lips. “Sans, you're hurting me.”

 

“s-sorry, buddy.” Sans was shaking now, withdrawing his hands to put them in his lap, the white orbs glancing around the room. “what... sort of things do you dream about?”

 

“Dying,” You respond, simply shrugging as you reached up to wipe away a tear with a sniffle.

 

“... who dies?” Sans' attention was all back on you now, and you could tell he looked concerned. Worried. His eyes were barely there.

 

“... me. I die. Every dream.” Your shoulders slump as you close your eyes, putting your face in your hands. “I don't know if it's a premonition, or if...”

 

“that's new.” His statement catches you off guard.

 

“W-what?” You're startled, fingers digging into your skin. What the hell was he talking about?

 

“shit. uh. sorry. i meant... your hair. it's new.” He's sweating now, and is glancing to the side nervously. You blink slowly, your questions dying on your tongue.

 

“My hair?”

 

“yeah, it's... short, and cute, and... out of your eyes that i love to see, haha.” The skeleton was blushing now, a blue tinge to his cheeks as he kept glancing from your face to the side.

 

“Sans, are you... are you flirting with me right now,” You state. You're not sure if you're stunned or speechless, and you figure that you're somewhere in the middle of the two, unsure of how to broach this subject. You had always had a crush on Sans, even from the beginning – dating Papyrus was fun, but Sans had taken you on  _ two  _ dates before... even if he didn't explicitly  _ call  _ them that. There had to be something there, right?

 

“uuhhhh....” He stuffs his hands into his pockets, slouching. “uhh, maybe?” Sans looks  _ extremely  _ nervous, before you inch closer and smile at him, taking one of his hands and squeezing it gently.

 

“Then maybe we could go on another date?”

 

“look, kid. nothing against you, but i really don't think this is a good idea. i don't want to mess up your life, because i'm a pretty low-life guy and i don't think i'm that good for you–” Sans is cut short; he stops talking as soon as your forehead presses against his, your eyes staring right into his eye sockets. He is stunned into silence, staring at you with wide eyes as his whole body seemed to sweat. You always thought it was adorable how nervous he got with his actions, and even now he was trying to downplay how great of a guy he was – why couldn't he just accept how people saw him?

 

“Let me be the judge of that?” You query, reaching up to run your fingers over his shoulders, making him look even more nervous.

 

“kid, kiddo, hey, listen... we can't do this. this is a bad idea. a very, very,  _ very  _ bad idea.” Sans' eyes were nervous, darting to the side and then back to you like a frightened animal.

 

You let your hands drop. Was he really going to push this?

 

“I'm not a kid anymore,” You state sourly, crossing your arms as you pulled away, both physically and mentally. “You even took me on two dates before, or did you conveniently forget all of that?”

 

At this point, Sans sighs and rubs his head. “no, i didn't forget that... but you were a kid back then, frisk. you were young and didn't really understand anything–”

 

“You also threatened to kill me, if I recall correctly.”

 

“... yeah, you recall correctly.” He slumps even more, looking rather dejected. Almost like he was  _ hoping  _ that you hadn't remembered that.

 

“Then you really wouldn't be messing up my life, Sans. For fuck's sake, look at me. I'm not even human anymore, since I've spent so much time with the monsters.” You were livid, and you couldn't keep it all in anymore. You were at your breaking point. “Sans, look at me. Fucking look at me.  _ I'm not even human anymore. _ ” Tears filled your eyes again, but you were now holding your heart, revealing it in front of Sans, holding it out for him to see.

 

It was a lovely shade of red, pulsing softly between your palms, a slow pulse that showed how distraught and sad you were.

 

“it's...” He trails off into a slow hiss, staring at you for a long, long moment. “well... that's new too,” Sans mutters softly, resisting the urge to reach out and touch your soul, his fingers splayed out on a leg. You can tell by how his arm is twitching that he wants to reach out... to touch it, but he refrains.

 

“how... how long have you been able to do this, frisk?” His eyes snap up to stare into yours, just a slight hint of blue to his left eye...

 

“I dunno.” You shrug, halfheartedly. “Why do you even care, anyway?” Your eyes are still teary, and a sob starts up in your throat again. “You probably don't, and are just pretending...”  _ Just like everyone else _ was thought, but went unsaid.

 

“Frisk. How. Long?” His words were enunciated now, very clear and lacking the carefree attitude that he always seemed to have. His hands reached up and encircled yours, entwining with your fingers. “Frisk, I need to know how long this has been going on.  _ How long have you been able to do this? _ ”

 

“J-just... about two years, I think,” You state softly, closing your eyes and slumping down, letting go of your soul. It fades back into your body, and you're left there, Sans still holding your hands in a gentle but firm manner. “Maybe longer?” You weren't sure, since you'd been wrapped up mostly in politics and trying to balance your life.

 

“Maybe... this timeline is different,” He murmurs to himself, looking away for a brief moment.

 

“Timeline? What do you mean, Sans?” You are so tired, so very tired. “I remember us talking before about saves, and things... what aren't you telling me, Sans?”

 

His gaze flickers back to you, and his fingers tighten on yours. “i don't think we should worry about that right now, buddy.” You sigh, shivering, wanting nothing more than to crawl into his embrace – but  _ now  _ wasn't the right moment. There was no way to get any answers out of him now.

 

If Sans shut himself off from questioning, there was no getting any questions you wanted answered in the near future.

 

“Do you even like me, Sans?” More tears fall, and you don't try to stop them this time. “Because I feel like every time I try to reach out to you, you just pull away. Am I not attractive? Are you just... not interested in me? Am I ugly, or...?” You pause, biting your lip. “Do you even like me as a friend?”

 

“frisk, buddy, no.” He pulls you close, hugging you so hard that you feel your back crack. “frisk, i... just feel like i'm the lowest person ever and i don't even deserve someone as great as you are. you're amazing and the best person i've ever met and... i don't even  _ compare  _ to you, frisk. i don't deserve this. i don't deserve you.”

 

At this statement, you sob and cry, wailing. “Sans, I feel the same way  _ about you _ . Don't you get it? I feel like I'm drowning and you're the only one who's ever been there for me time and time again, even when I didn't really need it.  _ You were always there for me _ . I tried to be there for you too, but... I don't know, I just got caught up in the whole 'trying to save monsters' business and...”

 

“shhh. frisk, shhhh. it's alright. just let it out, and it'll be alright. it always is.” He pats your back gently as he pulls you into a hug, eyes dimming considerably as he seems to just... give up on the moment. “let's just... be friends for now, okay? would that be okay, kiddo?”

 

You don't answer him – you're too tired and drained to come up with a reasonable answer, so you shift your weight and curl up on the bed with your head on his lap, relaxing as his fingers run through your short hair. You blush slightly as you make a small, contented sound at the slight head massage he is giving you.

 

Sans waits a good, long while for you to calm yourself down, staying there and letting you relax on his lap, waiting for your erratic sobs to cease to a minimal amount.

 

You don't even realize you're asleep... until you start  _ dreaming _ .

 

 

***

 

Frisk was left sleeping on the bed, curled up so peacefully that you almost couldn't bear to leave them – but they needed their rest. God knew they needed their rest. So you left. You would see them again later.  _ You had to. _

 

You walk forward, staring at your skeletal hand, breathing in and out to calm your frazzled nerves. You didn't know that Frisk could even  _ do  _ that with their soul, or that they were having nightmares...

 

… and it sounded like the nightmares were coinciding with your own.

 

Of course, they weren't just nightmares for you. They were SAVES, and _had_ happened, and would happen again, and again, and _again_...

 

You clench your fist and glare up at the sky, ignoring the strange looks of humans around you. They didn't matter to you as much as Frisk did – in the blink of an eye you were gone, teleporting closer to home with a single thought.

 

You slammed your hand against a nearby concrete wall, doubling over and hissing out your emotional pain.

 

How long would you have to repeat  _ this  _ particular timeline? How long would you have to endure? You thought you were done repeating timelines when Chara was in control, when you had to kill them over and over and over again...

 

But then, you were free, because of Frisk. You were all free.

 

You thought it was over. Truly,  _ finally  _ over.

 

You slam your fist against the wall again, tears leaking out of your eyes as you slide down against the concrete, leaning heavily against it as you tried to quell your own sobs.

 

How long were you doomed to repeat  _ this _ one, watching Frisk die over and over again? How many times would you fall in love with them, over and over and  _ over again _ , just to watch the same thing happen? To be able to do nothing but stare at their lifeless corpse, unable to change even the slightest thing, only to reset and have to do it all over again, repeating the same motions, the same gestures, all the while pretending nothing was wrong?

 

Was this your eternal punishment for your own sins?

 

You couldn't do this anymore, but... you nearly tore Frisk's heart out in that moment in their apartment thanks to your stupid hesitation and doubt, when they bared their soul to you.  _ Quite literally. _

 

You couldn't do that to them.

 

Tearing out your own heart was better... even if it made you emotionally drained and hopeless.

 

You were painted as lazy, uncaring, loose and lighthearted. That was fine by you; it was better that than others knowing that the reason you were the way you were was due to despondency.

 

What was one more repeat? You couldn't keep doing this to yourself... but it was better than doing it to Frisk.

 

Even if it ended up killing you inside.

 

 


	5. Moment by Moment...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things get a little darker, and some things are brought to light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a really hard time writing this chapter. :( I HAD A REALLY BAD TIME YOU GUYS. I WAS going to write some sappy fluff stuff but plot decided to intervene and drag it kicking and screaming in another direction.
> 
> Sorry (not sorry). Enjoy. <3

**Chapter 5 – Moment by Moment...**

 

You wake, bleary eyed and slightly tired, but when you look around the room you don't see Sans anywhere.

 

You sigh. It was typical. He was never known to stick around for long.

 

Rubbing your eyes, you decide to go to the bathroom and use a rag to scrub your face, staring at yourself in the mirror. Your brown hair was too short for your liking, but it was at least manageable. Your skin was also too dark for your liking, a brownish tint that you didn't really see what people admired in it, but... you shrugged it off. You had never really thought that highly of yourself to begin with, always admiring other people for their qualities and traits more than your own.

 

You were also slightly chubby and didn't exercise as much as you should have.

 

Rinsing your ruddy face, you change your clothes and move to find your phone, toying with it and staring at it for a long moment until you decide to text Sans. You needed to talk to him, and figure out just where you two stood in your relationship.

 

You started to type out a whole message, only to end up deleting it and putting just a simple message. He would either come, or he wouldn't. You hoped he would come.

 

**[Grillby's. 30 minutes.]**

 

You send the text.

 

The original Grillby's was where you'd had your first date, so it seemed all the more fitting to have it at the new location... and if he didn't show up, well.

 

That would at least answer your question for sure.

 

Slumping slightly as you went from room to room out of sheer nervousness, your eyes catch a painting on the wall that you painted some time ago – it was of a man that resembled a skeleton like Sans and Papyrus, and you really had no idea why you drew it, considering it creeped you out quite a bit.

 

You kept it, simply because it was one of your best pieces. Art wasn't something you really did often anymore, but you kept whatever art you had done, and the majority of it sat at Toriel's house on her walls and such. Your mother was so proud of anything you did.

 

Every time you looked at it, you could swear that the picture changed, even if it was just a slight, minute difference. Even now as you stared at it, you could feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise, as if the picture was  _ watching  _ you, the grin growing ever wider by a slight margin, the hands shifting ever so slightly...

 

Suppressing a shiver, you crack your neck and turn your back to it, deciding to change your clothes, not wanting to seem a bit mussed up... but after walking to the closet and just staring at your outfits, you gave a halfhearted shrug and moved to walk out the door, grabbing your wallet and shoving it in your pocket.

 

You didn't have enough determination to change your clothes for Sans. Not this time.

 

Locking your door behind you, you walk forward and taste the crisp morning air, breathing in deeply as you headed forwards, rubbing your face and yearning for coffee.

 

Grillby had had a rough patch when starting up his business, but after the locals found that his food was actually pretty tasty, they flocked to his establishment and gave him a  _ skele _ -ton of business –

 

Oh, no. You ducked your head and exhaled, scrunching up your face. Sans' puns were getting to you again, and you couldn't help but think about the skeleton. Shoving your hands in your pockets, you hunch and shake your head, unable to get him out of your mind. You loved everything about him – he was always caring, always said stupid jokes to get others to laugh, was always there for you...

 

Why couldn't _he_ see that?

 

Breathing in and sighing for a long moment, you raised your hand and ruffled your slightly bedraggled hair, stepping into Grillby's restaurant. No time to back out now.

 

Grillby's restaurant was actually decently sized inside, much bigger than the location he had Underground. There were twice as many stools and tables as before, and the jukebox he bought sitting in the corner was actually playing music – and decent tunes, at that.

 

Surprise was etched over your face. You hadn't been here in a while, and it showed... he'd changed the place quite a bit, adding a lot of new things that hadn't been there the last time you were here.

 

“Frisk!” Came a joyous cry, and two little flameballs came running your way, stopping on either side of you and hugging you fiercely with their little fiery arms. You can't help but laugh, hugging them back even though it is a bit awkward for you with their heights. You had known these two for a few years now, introduced quite a while ago by their father, Grillby. He had settled down once he opened the restaurant and was now raising a rather nice family in the neighborhood that you were attending college. You didn't know why he moved away from Mt. Ebott, but you never asked – it wasn't really your place to pry into others' lives and try to figure out what made them tick.

 

Even though you were tempted, sometimes...

 

“Good to see you, kid.” Grillby, the owner of the restaurant, leaned behind the counter a bit nonchalantly, giving a wave as soon as you look up. He had kids a few years ago, the twins that now surrounded you and looked at you with hopeful faces.

 

“Didja bring any new stories, Frisk?” The red flameball known as Scorch asked, her hands clasping together in front of her shyly.

 

“Do you have any more daring ADVENTURE TALES???” The blue flameball known as Sizzle yelled, excitement showing on her face as she raised her hands in the air, fists clenched in a happy manner.

 

Both of them hopped up and down, looking quite overjoyed, but the differences in their personality showed in their mannerisms. Every time you stopped by, they cheered you up some. You can't help but smile at them both, seeing the excitement on their faces when you stepped into the building...

 

It filled you with determination.

 

“Shouldn't you two be in school?” It seemed a bit late for the twins, but you did sleep in a little bit, unsure of what time it actually was. You hadn't checked the clock when you left.

 

“Ptaaah!” The blue one cried, stomping her foot. “Dad, do we really have to go? Frisk JUST got here!” Behind the bar, Grillby chuckled, giving a simple nod of his head.

 

“I'll tell you two a story later, okay?” You state, giving a pat on the head to each of them as they waved their goodbyes and slung their backpacks over their shoulders, the red one waltzing out the door in a hurried manner while the blue one took her time and skipped boldly.

 

“They're good kids.” You murmur to Grillby, sitting at one of the bar stools, leaning on the counter with your head propping up on your hand.

 

“... A handful,” He mutters back, his glasses shining for a brief moment as he looks at you... and then grins. “... Good to see you again. Hope life is... treating you well.”

 

“Yeah. Somewhat.” You feel so tired, your eyes drooping. “Being an ambassador is rather tiring.” Your eyes shifted to the clock – it was nearly noon. Well, it was probably late enough, right? “Hey, do you have any alcohol?”

 

“... you too?” He lowers his arms and sighs, frowning at you as he gestures towards a table behind you with a jerk of his head. You turn to look and see Sans sitting at a table in the corner, not having noticed him before... he was tipping an empty glass with a finger, making it dance awkwardly on the table as he stared dully in front of him.

 

“... how many has he had, Grillby?”

 

“... Seven...” Grillby adjusts his glasses further up on his face, and shakes his head. “He hasn't paid on his tab in weeks, and I'm rather concerned.” Stiffening, you reach down and dig into your wallet, pulling out some money to set on the counter. This was rather unlike Sans – usually he was  _ owed _ money, having open tabs, not the other way around...

 

“... Thanks, but... that wasn't the issue I was concerned about...” Grillby gives you a satisfied nod and takes the money, pointing a finger at you. “...You should go talk to him. I'll... put the rest of this on his tab, if that's your intent...?”

 

“It is. Thanks, Grillby. Could you bring over a coffee for me instead of the alcohol?” You blow a kiss to him and can see his flames grow a little brighter. He hums and grunts to clear his throat, turning away from you to retreat into the back. You can't help but smile, always finding the guy rather endearing with his certain quirks.

 

Standing up, you walk over to the skeleton, frowning at the mess he seemed to have made of himself. His jacket was a bit tousled up, his shirt had stains all over it, and... he wasn't wearing his slippers, which was just odd. Just socks.You sit down across from him, scooting over to the middle of the bench and folding your arms.

 

“I take it that you got my text message...” You start, feeling that you sounded a bit lame. Sans didn't answer.

 

“... want to tell me what this is about?” You tried to put on your no-nonsense face, like your mother did. She did that look  _ very well _ , and you hoped that you pulled it off just as perfectly as she did.

 

Sans' eyes now dart to yours, and he sets the glass down on its base slowly, splaying his hands down on the table.

 

“f... frisk, i... i need to know... i need you to promise me you're not going to kill any more people. p-p-please, i need to know, i can't do this anymore... i can't watch you die anymore...”

 

You stop, your face falling. “Sans... what the hell are you talking about? I haven't died, and I haven't killed anyone. Ever.” You could feel your blood draining from your face, coldness setting in your body.

 

“we... we both know that's not true, buddy.” His fingers clutch the glass as if it was his last support, then he mentally forces himself to let go, shoving the glass to the side with a sigh, the bottom scraping on the table. “you always get bored, quit, replay... only to end up dead again and i just can't live with that anymore because someone you care about can only die so many times before it starts to go to your head.”

 

“... Sans...” You breathe, reaching out to grasp his hands. It startles him, and he looks scared as he stares right at you. Right  _ through  _ you.

 

“i can't do this anymore, frisk. i can't watch you die over and over again when there's nothing i can do to stop it...” His voice wavers and tears are leaking out of his eye sockets, making your jaw drop in surprise and fear. You reach out to wipe one away, one of his eyes closing in response to your touch. Sans leans into your hand affectionately, both eyes closing now as he continued to cry, shoulders shaking.

 

“don't make me do this anymore, frisk.  _ please _ . it's not fair. it's not fair....”

 

A large mug of coffee was set down next to you with a small  _ clunk _ , and you glance up to see Grillby set a container of creamer and sugar next to the coffee. You don't say a word, but merely give a small nod and mouth a  _ thank you _ as he gives you a thumbs up, leaving you two alone again.

 

Grillby was a good guy.

 

Withdrawing a hand while using the other to hold Sans' hand, you pour out the sugar and then the creamer into the cup, using your hand to stir the coffee. It was a bit difficult, but you manage because you sure as hell weren't going to let go of Sans' hand anytime soon.

 

He was still shaking.

 

Breathing out, you pick up the cup and drink a little, feeling a bit calmer. “Sans, buddy, talk to me. Please? I don't understand what you're talking about.”

 

“you never do. y-y.. you never remember anything. you don't go back to the start but you've been restarting ever since we got to the surface and i don't know  _ why _ ...” Sans buries his face in his arms, his whole body slouching. “are you not...  _ happy _ with us? are you not happy with your decisions? you... you could have said no... you didn't have to take on... all of this responsibility... you... you... you weren't ready for it, were you...”

 

You swallow a bit more coffee than you intended to, feeling your throat burn as you set the coffee down roughly. You wince, making a slightly choked sound as you clear your throat.

 

“Sans, I think you've had too much to drink. Please, just come back home with me. We can talk there, okay?” Sans was silent, not looking at you. Not responding.

 

He didn't even acknowledge that you had spoken.

 

“Sans... I'm sorry. I'm sorry I pressed the issue.” You squeezed his hand again, grasping his bony phalanges and metacarpals with determination. You weren't going to let this go. You weren't going to let  _ him  _ go. “I didn't mean to hurt you. We can just be... we can just be friends, Sans.”

 

It hurt. You could feel your eyes get watery, and you didn't know why it  _ hurt  _ so much.

 

“yeah. y-y... yeah, okay buddy.” Sans finally responds, squeezing your hands back just the barest of minimums, his eyes dull and almost lifeless. It hurt you to see him so down, so devoid of life and jokes... it wasn't like his usual self and you wanted to  _ fix  _ it but you didn't  _ know how _ ...

 

Instead, you pick up your coffee and gulp down the rest, moving to stand up and lead Sans by the hand out of Grillby's. He follows in silence, one hand shoved into his sweatshirt pocket while the other hung onto yours looser than you held onto his.

 

You travel like that in silence for a few minutes, not bringing up the fact that he could have used his teleportation to get you both to your place a lot faster... but then again, Sans hadn't been himself for... jeez, you actually hadn't talked to him in a while, so you didn't know  _ how  _ long it had gone on.

 

Had  _ he  _ been having nightmares too?

 

Man. Some friend you were.

 

The pace was slow, and you glance back to Sans, worry etching your features. You really had no idea how alcohol affected a monster, especially when said monster had  _ seven drinks _ . Could Sans even hold his liquor? Did it even affect him the same amount as it affected humans? You had no idea.

 

_ Some Ambassador you were. You don't even know much about the monsters that adopted you, that called you family.  _ Your thoughts plagued you, and you feel bitter inside, for just a moment.

 

Slouching slightly, you finally reach your apartment and unlock the door before tugging Sans in behind you, shutting the door and locking it behind you before letting go and heading to the kitchen.

 

“I'm going to make some more coffee for myself... feel free to look around. I know you haven't yet.” You don't mind the skeleton looking through your closets... and you can't help but give a small snicker at your own pun, unable to help but comment on it. “You can even go into my closet and stay there... then I could brag that I have a skeleton in my closet?”

 

Sans turns to look at you, and for a moment, he looks like he's going to laugh... but the moment passes and he turns away to walk into your bedroom, making a show of looking around.

 

You feel like your soul crashes to the bottom of your stomach, despair clawing at your insides.

 

In silence, you tread softly to the kitchen and use the coffee maker to brew yourself a bit of caffeine, staring dully at it while you wait for it to finish, your hands waiting around the mug as it poured fresh brewed coffee. You didn't need to add sugar, just the creamer you bought the other day – a subtle taste of Irish Cream that brought out the nutty flavor.

 

Putting the creamer back into the fridge, you take your mug and walk into the bedroom where you saw Sans wander into. “Hey, Sans, how is Papyrus–”

 

You stop abruptly, seeing him staring with an almost horrified expression at the painting that hung above your bed.

 

“w... w-where did you get that,” Sans stutters, his eye sockets devoid of any light whatsoever.

 

“I drew it. Well, painted it, actually.” You sip your coffee as you glance to your painting of the skull man, finding the situation strange. Why was he acting like this over your weird painted canvas? Maybe he was creeped out by it too?

 

Was it just you, or did one of the many hands you'd painted around the face...  _ move? _

 

“I keep it because it's one of my best pieces, but it creeps me out slightly. Like it's always watching me.” You shrug and wave it off with a hand as you turn to look at him again. “Or... always moving. Like it has a mind of its own, maybe.” You sip your coffee slowly, mulling over the idea.

 

“it's... s'rude to talk about someone who's listening,” Sans mutters, shaking his head as he turns away, both hands now shoved into his pockets. “... wasn't there before.” He's muttering to himself now, looking shaken. “... wasn't in  _ any  _ timeline before. what the hell?”

 

“Sans?” You ask in a tentative voice, reaching out to grasp his hand, attempting to pull on an arm. “Sans, you can talk to me, you know?”

 

“ **No.”** Startled stiff, you stare at him as the bold proclamation came out of him, a voice that sounded very unlike himself. His arms drop to his sides, and he stares  _ past  _ you, his eyes tiny pinpricks of light. His left eye, however...

 

Sans' left eye was  _ shifting between blue and gold. _ It was more evident this time than the last – you had never seen it before, but it felt very familiar...

 

You reach forward to try to grasp a hand, succeeding in only holding something that felt dead. There was no response from him for a long moment. “... Sans?” You try again, trying to still your fluttering heart. You are afraid, and you don't know why.

 

“i can't do this. i'm sorry, frisk. i have to go.  _ i _ _ have to go. _ ” He pulls his hand out of yours in what seems like a practiced motion, and you are left there as he just  _ disappears _ .

 

You stand there for a long moment, your shoulders dropping and head hanging in dismay, emotional pain pulsing through you.

 

Why did he keep doing this?

 

You didn't understand.

 

 

You feel like a child all over again, kept in the dark about matters that others didn't think concerned you.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. I DO intend to put you-know-who in later chapters...
> 
>  
> 
> Inspirational Songs for this Chapter:
> 
> "Hallelujah" - Jeff Buckley  
> "I Know I'm a Wolf" - Young Heretics


	6. Leaf on the Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You return home to exchange presents and live with your family for the holidays...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who understand references of certain shows... the title of this chapter is a dead giveaway. ;)
> 
> ALSO THIS CHAPTER IS REALLY LONG IT GOT OUT OF CONTROL I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED

**Chapter 6 – Leaf on the Wind**

 

 

Shopping was, thankfully, done for the day. Well, done for _Christmas_ , really, since you had to go out a second time and buy gifts for everyone.

 

You also bought a few more gifts for Sans, thinking that he needed them. Poor skeleton was probably going through a rough time, though you really had no idea what, since he wouldn't _talk_ to you.

 

It had been a couple of weeks. Usually, he texted you a lame joke every day or two, but... there was nothing but radio silence on his end, and you can't help but feel that it's entirely your fault. And then there was the matter of wrapping up meetings with important people, because you were the ambassador and _had_ to take care of things before your vacation, and you didn't really want any of the politics bullshit to bug you at home... especially when said meetings included topics such as “ **Controlling your Monsters** ” and “ **Are our Parks Safe with those** _ **MONSTER**_ **osities running around?** ” and you couldn't forget your _favorite –_ with sarcasm – the topic of “ **Separation of Monsters from the Human Schools**.”

 

You sigh, rubbing your head. Things were just a royal mess lately.

 

Sans was supposed to appear today, but you weren't sure what time, having never really... _discussed_ it with him. You still are nearly done packing your things, intending on leaving your apartment for a month or two while you stayed with your mother Toriel for the holidays – it was plenty of time to catch up with everyone, and you believed that everyone would be there, or at least _try_ to make it, in the least.

 

Zipping your rather over-packed suitcase up, you sigh and stand, feeling pain in your back from bending over too long. A figure is standing nearby, making you nearly jump out of your skin – you cry out in surprise.

 

It was Sans.

 

“Jesus, Sans, don't _do_ that!” You exclaim, pressing your hand to your chest where your terrified, thumping heart lie. You didn't realize it was halfway out, floating until you noticed the glowing red from it, taking a staggering breath before willing it back into your body.

 

“sorry, buddy.” He shrugs, seeming nonchalant about it but in a much better mood than before. At least he has the nerve to look slightly apologetic for, quite _literally_ , scaring your heart out of your body.

 

Well, it was _something_ , anyway, if not improvement.

 

“i know i'm a little late, but things got a little hectic at home. had to take care of 'em.” There was a kind of glint in his eyes as he said this, but his eye sockets moved slightly, projecting mirth in that steady gaze of his.

 

He was... proud of himself?

 

What the hell had Sans been up to?

 

“Okay...” You breathe out, taking a breath and exhaling it as you give him another pointed glare. You'd find out later. Eventually.

 

“jeez, kiddo. if i didn't know any better i'd say you were taking glaring lessons from tori.” Inwardly, you sigh. He still calls you kiddo, despite you saying something about it earlier, stating that you weren't a kid anymore. You decide to let it go – it was a mannerism of his that you aren't entirely sure you want changed.

 

“Yeah. I've been working on it.” You pat your suitcase as your eyes narrow further. “So help me out, here. Why don't you _throw me a bone_?” At this, Sans snorts out a huff of laughter and wipes his eyes, walking over nonchalantly.

 

“okay, okay buddy. i'll help you out and throw you a bone. you ready to go, or do you need to put a little more _backbone_ into packing?”

 

“I've _been_ ready, Sans.” You cross your arms as you fought the smile and won, making a show of tapping your foot. Sans drops his arm, letting out air.

 

“... okay. sorry, kiddo.” The skeleton rubs the back of his head as he steps closer to you, holding out his hand for you to take. You stare at it for a moment, using one hand to wrap around the suitcase while the other takes his, and in the blink of an eye, you have the feeling of weightlessness, nausea, and the sense of dampness from algae on the beach, as well as bits and pieces of wet air splashing against your skin.

 

The feeling was indescribable, but mostly strange.

 

With a huff, both of you _land_ , appearing a few yards in front of your mother's house. You thought _land_ because you really couldn't think of any other way to describe it – one moment you were in your apartment, and the next... you were here.

 

You had lost count somewhere after ten, and the feeling of nausea hadn't gone away quite yet. You knew it would stay for at least half an hour, if not more.

 

Sans could apparently tell how disoriented you were, because your hand was squeezed gently by his, and you glanced to him with a slightly sickened expression.

 

“you get used to it after a while,” Came his half apology as he shrugged, tugging you towards the house. The first person you saw milling about outside was Alphys, and she turned as she saw you two, her expression turning to one of delight. She approached you with a gleeful expression, hands clasped together as her mouth hung open, eyes glancing from your held hands to you, then to Sans, and then back to you again.

 

“A-a-are you t-two d-d-d-dating!?” She exclaimed, putting her hands on her face and nearly melting right there on the spot.

 

God damn it, Alphys, too much anime rotted the brain. Your head still swam from the journey, but you were about to answer _no_ when Sans spoke in place of you.

 

“is tori here? i imagine she won't want to wait to see frisk. you know how she gets.” He winked at Alphys, who stuttered even further.

 

“R-r-right!” Hurrying inside, she called out. “T-t-... t-TORIEL! Frisk i-is h-h-here!”

 

Your eyes coolly slid to regard Sans in a curious manner, raising an eyebrow, wondering why he hadn't denied it. He didn't look at you.

 

It figured. More secrets and unanswered questions. What the hell was this skeleton up to?

 

Letting go of your hand, he moved and took your suitcase as both of you heard a loud thumping coming nearer and louder from the stairs inside of which you assumed to be Toriel.

 

“i'll put this in your room,” Sans stated, and with a wink to you he disappeared.

 

The door slammed open and you were barreled into by a large fluffy goat-like creature, hugging you very tightly and spinning you around and around until your head felt even dizzier than before.

 

“M-mooooom,” You mutter, trying to breathe and hug her back, but she has you pinned and is just so _excited_ to see you. It had nearly been a year, after all. Your stomach lurches from the motion and nausea from the teleportation trip, but you manage to keep things down. For the most part.

 

“My darling child, how have you been!? I've missed you so much, and I've made a _bunch_ of pies so you won't be hungry at all while you're here!” You wince slightly, secretly hoping that none of the pies are actually snail pies. Even though monsters loved it, it... was not one of your favorites.

 

“I'd... love to have tea and eat right now, if you don't mind,” You murmur softly, feeling like a bit of her special pie will help calm your stomach. You're released just enough where you can hug her back, pressing your face into her stomach. It was almost like you were a kid again, reeling in the feeling of contentment and safety that only she managed to give you. As a mother figure, anyway.

 

“Yes, yes, of course, my child.” Steering you inside by putting a paw on your back and gently pressing you, you walk into the house and glance over at the house that you remembered – the house you grew up in.

 

It was a well furnished house, wood paneling everywhere and knickknacks on shelves all over the walls, as well as quite a few of your paintings. When you had first arrived here with the monsters, Asgore and a few others had helped build the houses, and you knew that he took extra care with the house for Toriel – he still had feelings for her, even though their relationship was still strained after all these years.

 

You wondered if they would ever get back together.

 

Your eyes scan over the rest of the house – the kitchen was still immaculate with the large oven, large pantry and medium sized fridge, the curtains covering the window were decorated with cute pictures of tiny snails, the table was large enough to fit a whole party of people, the living room was behind you with the same broken-in couch that was a lovely shade of brown...

 

Yeah, this place brought back a lot of memories.

 

You remember jumping on the couch when you were little, nearly breaking an arm before Toriel caught you and made you sit in time out. You remember the time you nearly burned your hands on the oven door because you were trying to help her out by taking her famous butterscotch-cinnamon pie out since she was working so hard to raise you.

 

There was a rocking... _goat?..._ still beside the couch, that had been carved by Asgore as a gift to you. It surprised you that Toriel had kept it, but then you realized, why wouldn't she keep it? It was a favorite of yours still, and you couldn't think of any memories that were bad that were associated with anything in this house.

 

You can't help but smile with determination.

 

Sitting down at the table and relaxing, you give a smile to the people now standing in front of you – Toriel, Alphys, and Sans. Putting your elbows on the table, you crack your knuckles slowly and get slight amusement at how deadpan Sans becomes, his eyes disappearing as he begins to sweat. It probably made him uncomfortable.

 

Served him right.

 

“So where is everyone else?” You ask, stretching out your arms and cracking those, as well. Sans continued to remain perfectly still, and looked even more nervous than before.

 

You moved to crack your knees, and then your neck. With an exhale, you succeeded and laid your head on the table.

 

“They're coming, my child,” Toriel blinked, glancing to Sans as he shivered in his seat. You took notice, but didn't react in any way – it was Sans' fault for completely going off the radar and not contacting you in the slightest. For a moment, you thought it was rude and uncalled for of you to do such a thing, but at the moment? You didn't really care.

 

“They will be here in an hour or so. Meanwhile...” With a grand smile, Toriel puts a slice of pie on the table next to you, and you can smell the familiar scents of cinnamon and butterscotch, feeling right at home.

 

You take a bite and roll your head back with a soft moan. “I forgot how good this was. Thanks, mom.” It takes you only a minute to eat it and pat your stomach in a satisfied manner, before you jumped up and stared upstairs. “OH! Let me get my gifts, just a second.” You leave the plate and jump two steps at a time when you go to your room, seeing the suitcase on the bed in a nice manner.

 

You suddenly feel sorry for treating Sans the way you did. He might have hit a rough patch in dealing with life things, like you were, and it wasn't fair the way you were treating him now.

 

Sighing, you open your suitcase and take out two sets of wrapped gifts – Toriel's, and Sans'.

 

Walking back down the stairs, you hold both of the packages and see just your mother and Alphys now, a quizzical expression creeping into your eyes.

 

“Where did Sans go?”

 

“He went to take a walk, my child. Said something about letting us two just have time?” Toriel shrugged, looking at Alphys. The dinosaur shrugged in response.

 

“Ah... okay then.” You smile at Alphys. “I have a gift for you too, but I'll give it to both you and Undyne at the same time. Is that okay?”

 

“Y-y-yeah!” Alphys stutters, and it's apparent that she wasn't expecting to get any gifts at all. “I-i-... I'm g-g-going to g-go g-g-g-get her right n-n-now, o-o-okay!?” And with that said, she vacated the room, leaving you and Toriel to giggle between the two of you.

 

Setting Sans' gift on the table, you hold out the snail-decorated wrapping paper for Toriel, watching as her eyes became as wide as saucers.

 

“I don't want to open it now, the wrapping paper is so pretty!” Toriel loved anything with snails on it, and you tried to accommodate her as best you could. Finding snail print things was just so difficult sometimes, but from your mother's reaction... it was worth every moment hunting.

 

“Trust me. You want to open it,” You state with a grin, pushing it further into her hands. “So open it!”

 

She tears into it and when she stares at the gift inside, her eyes begin to water.

 

There were the two ingredients you had bought earlier – one cinnamon, and one with butterscotch flakes, and the third you added as an after thought – a large apron with snails decorating every inch of it.

 

“Oh, Frisk... I love it so much. Thank you,” She is practically sobbing now, hugging you tightly as she cries on your shoulder. “You're the best child a mother could ask for.”

 

“I'm not all that,” You say softly, patting her gently as you hug back. “But thank you. You're the best mother a kid could ask for.”

 

“Thank you, Frisk.” Shaking, she withdraws and sniffles as she wipes a tear from her eye, hugging the items for a long moment before she travels back to the kitchen, also taking the dish with her to rinse off.

 

She speaks again a moment later. “Oh!” It seemed you both were forgetful – you can't help but laugh, thinking that you got your slightly minor forgetfulness from her. She had such adorable mannerisms. “I also have your gift! Let me go grab it.” Hustling out of the kitchen, she goes to her bedroom down the hallway and returns immediately, holding a knitted sweater.

 

It also had a snail on it.

 

You thought it was adorable, and you stretch your arms out to take it, feeling the soft yarns that made up the bulk of the sweater.

 

“You made this one too?” You ask, burying your face into it.

 

“Every year. Now we match! Except... mine's not a sweater.” She narrows her eyes, looking to the side. “STILL. It matches. Slightly.” She grins, ruffling your short hair and then squawking in surprise. “Why, I didn't notice before! You cut your hair!” Toriel pulls you into a hug and spins you around again. At least your nausea was gone now, so you just run with it and hug her back, laughing.

 

“I miss your hair! It was long and fluffy, and now it's just... short! How is a mother supposed to get used to her child when they keep changing!?” You can't help but laugh, hugging her and shaking your head.

 

“I didn't have time to keep up with it, so off it went.”

 

“Ahh, I see. Mettaton is going to have something to say about that.” Toriel gives you a wink and you make a mock-groan, knowing full well that the robot was going to launch into how you needed to be beautiful and _try his products he'll give you free samples and everything!_ He meant well, but sometimes Mettaton was just... overly overdramatic.

 

Still.

 

“Perhaps you might find Sans? He seems a little... off lately.” Toriel gives you a meaningful glance that you can't quite make out, but you nod dumbly anyway and put on the sweater over your clothing, reveling in how comfortable and roomy it was – it was the perfect size, enough to snuggle and almost fall asleep in.

 

You take Sans' gift off of the table, heading outside.

 

It didn't take you long to find Sans – he was leaning outside against the house, and when you notice him he gives you a nod.

 

“hey, kiddo.” His voice sounds... so tired.

 

“Hey. I'm sorry, Sans. I... I wanted you to open your Christmas present early. Would that be okay with you?” You know you said the right thing when his eyes light up, and you hand the present over to him with ease, watching him carefully open it up.

 

“oh, buddy...” His breath is gone as he pulls out a large hoodie very alike to his own, only this one had fur on the trim around the hood and neckline, and a slightly larger zipper. He stares at it for a long time, fingers brushing over the white fur in awe before he looks up at you with an expression you had never seen before.

 

“thank you.” He meant it when he spoke, clutching the jacket to himself like it was the most treasured thing in the world.

 

“I... figured it was getting colder and your current jacket is wearing out, so...” You smile. “It's also pretty fashionable, so you might have a step up on Mettaton.” At this statement, he laughs out loud, his whole body shaking with mirth.

 

“your sweater is cute, toriel knit this one too?” He points at the snail, and you blush slightly.

 

“Yeah, you know how she loves snails.” You can't help but laugh. “I got her a snail apron, and now we match, apparently. She's delighted.” Sans' eyes light up at this, and he looks just as amused as you feel.

 

“THERE SHE IS! DARLING~!!!” Came a voice that you recognized all too well, and your breath was taken away as you were tackled into a very tight hug, spun around again – wait, why was everyone spinning you around? It was like they all planned it or something, or maybe you enjoyed it too much as a kid so they just... kept doing it.

 

You weren't going to dismiss that – they meant well, anyway.

 

“U-uh, thanks, Mettaton,” You mutter wearily, your sight slightly warbled and fragments of dots dance on the edge of your vision. The robot spun you far faster than Toriel had, and the robot sets you down finally with a dismayed exhale of breath.

 

“WELL! You cut your hair, darling! I can't say it doesn't _quite_ suit you, but I did so much like your other hair better. You could have worked with it more than this short... bit.” He reaches up and grasps at your short strands, making a face as some stuck up where others just fell down.

 

It just made his face more horrified.

 

“Would you like me to get my hairdresser, darling, and fix this horrible mistake of a haircut? Free of charge for _you_ , darling,” Mettaton added, withdrawing his digits and examining his fingers.

 

“her hair looks fine the way it is.” Sans spoke up, and you glance over to see him already wearing the jacket you got him – it warms you up inside, and you can feel your face flush red.

 

“Oh. Hello, Sans.” Came Mettaton's icy reply, his cool gaze staring at the skeleton.

 

“mettaton.” Sans nodded in reply.

 

You glanced back and forth between the two. There was... something you were missing, but you weren't about to question it with the amount of heat between those two glares. … yeesh. It was enough to make snow melt.

 

“HUMAN! I MEAN, FRISK!” Papyrus' voice was unique, and soon you were picked up again, _not_ spun around this time but hugged very tightly against the taller skeleton who was attempting to nuzzle you sweetly.

 

“Hi, Papyrus,” You laugh and hug him back, patting a few bones. “It's good to be home.”

 

“I'LL SAY! WE MISSED YOU A LOT! ESPECIALLY METTATON, BUT HE WON'T ADMIT IT.” Your eyes shift to Mettaton who has the grace to flush, breaking the eye contact with Sans. He moves to press a chaste kiss to Papyrus' cheek, making the skeleton's eyes widen as he loosens his grip on you.

 

Oh.

 

_Oh._

 

_OH._

 

Everything clicked into place, and you glance to Sans, who looked utterly murderous at the robot... and you can't help but bark out a laugh, catching Sans' stare. He falters for a moment, looking away and crossing his arms. So  _that_ was what he was dealing with earlier. It made perfect sense now – he was overprotective of Papyrus.

 

“I'm going inside now, okay darling?” Mettaton spoke to Papyrus in a low voice, giving a smile to both of you before walking inside.

 

“ISN'T HE THE BEST? DON'T YOU AGREE, BROTHER?” Papyrus is practically dancing in place, letting you go and clasping his hands to his chest.

 

“yeah, sure.” Sans scoffs, and you keep grinning, staring at the two skeletons before tapping Papyrus on the shoulder.

 

“Hey, Papyrus... can I meet you guys inside later? I want to take a walk with Sans.” Surprise shows on the shorter skeleton's features, but the expression is quickly replaced by one of nonchalance. Papyrus turns to you and hugs you again, squeezing you tightly.

 

“YES, FRISK! I WILL WAIT INSIDE FOR YOU!” The taller skeleton kneels down slightly, his expression becoming serious as his voice lowers an octave – a feat you didn't know he could perform.

 

“But be careful, alright? Best friend.” He pats your head gently and walks to the house, stops, and turns back to face you. “BECAUSE I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL COOK YOU SPAGHETTI TONIGHT!”

 

You can't help but feel excited – you actually haven't had spaghetti in so long, that you're actually  _craving_ the stuff. And you know that Papyrus has improved when even Sans was commenting on how good his spaghetti was.

 

It had been a while.

 

“Looking forward to it, Paps.” You give a wink to the skeleton and see him blush, spinning into the house with renewed vigor. You turn to Sans. “... doesn't he ever run out of steam?”

 

“nah. that's papyrus for you. the great energizer bunny. heh.” Sans shakes his head and jerks his chin towards the mountain. “you go on ahead, i'll catch up.”

 

“Sans... are you going to spy on your brother?” You ask with a coy grin, but the shorter comic doesn't answer – his eyes merely shine in reply, and when you blink, he's gone.

 

Shaking your head with a chuckle, you head to the mountain, wanting to see the flowers and things that had changed. As you tread up the pathway, you're already winded – you knew you needed to exercise more, but never really had the time between college and meetings as the ambassador to the monsters. It was hectic, and drove you crazy most of the time.

 

_Most_ of the time. Sometimes... it was worth it.

 

You took your time traveling up the mountain – you saw yellow flowers similar to the ones that broke your fall all those years ago, as well as various floral varieties that you imagined Asgore planted. You had always thought of him as a father, even if it made Toriel slightly angry – but she had never outright commented on the word usage.

 

Seeds and flowers were the gift you brought Asgore, ones that weren't easily found, and you thought they would make a nice addition to the former king who so loved to tend to his garden. He had always been a gentle soul, and you couldn't imagine anyone else replacing him as your father figure – like Toriel, he had always been there for you, even if the relationship had been someone strained at times.

 

It hurt you, knowing that you couldn't fix their relationship.

 

You didn't realize how much time had passed until the sky had grown dark, and you gave a slight shiver, glad that you had put on the sweater that Toriel had given you. You roll your hands into your sleeves, then blink as you get an idea. You had forgotten a flashlight, so you stop walking and call forth your blazing soul, shifting it to your bare wrist, holding your hand above your head to illuminate the path in front of you. Your sweater sleeve falls down to your elbow, exposing your arm bare to the cold chill of the air.

 

Brrrr.

 

It was a good thing you stopped, because a few feet further and you would have fallen down a deep hole that had appeared in the middle of the pathway. You had been so lost in your thoughts that you might have... fallen again...

 

“You shouldn't wear your soul like that, out in the open.” You jump, turning to see Sans leaning against a tree, arms crossed as one of his eyes was blazing between yellowish gold and bright sky blue.

 

The more you used your soul out in the open, the more you realized how _muted_ things became. Bright colors that were formerly so vibrant were a lower hue, darkening more the further your heart was away from you.

 

You take a moment to recollect your thoughts, breathing in sharply.

 

“Yeah? Well, you shouldn't sneak up on people like that. Besides. You always said... that I wore my heart on my sleeve, Sans.” You glance to your soul, a blazing bright red in the darkening night sky. Staring at it, you can feel passion and slight anger wrapped around it, the glow strong enough to be a flashlight in itself. Your heart is the only thing that isn't muted for you. “You're late. Took your time?”

 

“i didn't think you'd take it so _literal_.” There is a hint of a smile on his face, but he just looked so... tired and _despondent_. He approaches you and places a hand on your chest, his expression forlorn. “i'm sorry i'm late. i thought i'd give you a bit of time to explore... by yourself.”

 

“Sans, I wanted to explore _with you._ Not by myself. That's why I _invited_ you in the first place.” You can feel tears stinging your eyes now, and you had no idea why you wanted to cry at this moment – this was... not something to really cry about, was it?

 

“i'm sorry, i'll make it up to you. now... please put your soul back? “ Sans sounded extremely nervous, and you couldn't place why. He wasn't nervous before, when you'd shown him in your room.

 

“we can head back, get a flashlight or something if you wanted to continue to explore... but, i want to play a few games with you. board games or something.” Your mouth opens in confusion as you see terror in his eyes now. “i don't like this, i feel something bad.” He continues, his gaze desperate now – begging.

 

“Sans? What's going on?” Your hand lowers slightly, and you can see him glance around as if they were being watched. He had... been like this ever since seeing your painting in your room. Actually, since you started flirting with him.

 

“frisk, we can talk about everything at the house, but right now we need to get back inside. it's not safe after dark.” This information surprised you, and you took a step forward, not quite understanding.

 

“What do you mean, not safe–” Your body and speech jerk to a stop as you feel something sharp pierce through your body, your eyes shifting down to see a knife protruding from your chest... it shone with your blood dripping from the sharp edges of the blade and your wound.

 

For a brief moment, your eyes shift to Sans', staring at the colorful orbs there – and by his horrified expression, he wasn't expecting this to happen. He almost looked to be in denial, reaching out for you...

 

All you could do was fumble and attempt to grasp the knife to no avail, gasping in pain only as it retracted. Your soul sputtered once and was dropped – you had no energy or motivation to try to force it back in.

 

Your body turns as you fall, and you see the red eyes of a dark haired child standing over you, looking very pleased with itself. The grin was far more terrifying than any monster you had ever encountered.

 

Your vision fizzled, failing you, and the last thing that filled your sight was green vines snapping towards your dropped soul, wrapping it up and making it disappear into the faded greenery and old fallen autumn leaves.

 

The last thing you heard was a roar, denial screaming into the night. _Sans?_

 

Everything went away, fading into darkness.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH YES I DID.
> 
> I will be updating weekly from now on, as work is getting rather hectic and I need to take care of some things at home. I hope the suspense of the cliffhanger doesn't kill you, but THANK YOU so much for all the comments, reviews, and bookmarks/subscriptions! I really appreciate them all and they make my days better just by knowing I'm making something that others enjoy.
> 
> From the entirety of my soul...
> 
> Thank You.


	7. Guarded Remorse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk is in critical condition, and our heroes worry...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is depressing, so expect some feels...
> 
> Also, I had a request done for me of Frisk in the last chapter!!! SO PREEESHHHH
> 
> http://moofrog.tumblr.com/post/132303408095/all-the-drawings-i-did-at-the-stream-top-4-are?is_related_post=1
> 
> thank you again weh ;;

**Chapter 7 – Guarded Remorse**

 

You should have known better.

 

You'd lost count how many times you'd watched Frisk die, and this was no exception.

 

Except for the fact that you actually accompanied them this time... when previous times you had left Frisk alone on their yearly nature hike.

 

It hadn't made a damn bit of difference. Frisk still went on their nature hike, despite how many times you had warned them... _it hadn't made a damn bit of difference._

 

Things became rather hectic at the house, and you thought it better to spend your time at Grillby's instead of in the way of Toriel's healing magic, considering you were the one who brought Frisk _back._

 

In hindsight, you knew that none of them blamed you.

 

In hindsight, you still knew it was your fault.

 

You didn't know if Frisk would survive this time, or if this particular year would be reset again.

 

According to Toriel, they were in critical condition, and you were surprised that the large monster went into full “mom” mode, putting her thoughts and feelings aside in order to care for Frisk as a healer. It was something you admired about her, and something... you found that you couldn't accomplish yourself.

 

You had tried, time and time again, a long time ago, to try to care about _something._

 

You could remember the scene from hours ago; Frisk stabbed by a ghostly apparition, you carrying them to Toriel's house with your teleportation – with your abrupt arrival, no one had questioned how you got there, more worried about the condition of Frisk than of your mysterious ways.

 

Frisk had looked downright pale, for their lightly browned complexion... and you hoped that they wouldn't die. Not this time. This time _felt_ different, and you couldn't help but _wish_ and _hope_ and _pray..._ it wasn't something you were used to, putting beliefs in something you couldn't grasp or see, but it was something, and something was better than nothing.

 

Besides, Toriel was the best healer you knew. All you could do at this point was _wait_.

 

You stare dully at the ketchup bottle in front of you, almost wishing it was alcohol, but due to Frisk's meddling Grillby wouldn't serve you any more of the stuff. Not for a while, anyway.

 

You mentally chide yourself. _Such a fool. You should have done something. Anything. YOU COULD HAVE BEEN THERE SOONER._

 

“...SANS.” Your concentration breaks and you glance up sharply to see a very concerned fire monster staring at you, adjusting his glasses further on his face. Normally, Grillby spoke in a slow, calculating manner, his voice deep and soothing, but when your name is called, you can hear the crackle in his voice – the distressed break in pitch and volume. It is apparent that you made him worry.

 

“...I've called you three times. What... is going on...?” Grillby knew almost everything about your life, with the exception of very few things. You were rather secretive, but you also knew that the fire monster could out-secret _you_ any day, which made him a good friend, and an even better listener. You knew that if you told Grillby anything, it would stay with him, and _only_ him.

 

You two had been friends for ages. So long, in fact, that you had lost count on how many years it had actually been.

 

Taking in a sharp breath, you let it out shakily as your hands begin to shake, and you can't do anything but stare at them in dismay. _Why couldn't I have been there sooner? Why? WHY?_ You must have zoned out again, because you feel Grillby's hand on your shoulder, and you snap instantly to attention at the touch.

 

“Tell me what's going on, Sans. I haven't seen you this shaken up for years. Not since...”

 

“... yeah. not since.” You didn't have to finish that sentence – both of you knew what had happened, and the situation didn't need to be brought up again for a topic of conversation.

 

Besides. It was rude to talk about people who were always listening.

 

“f-frisk...” You began shakily, putting both hands on the ketchup bottle to try to calm your nerves. “frisk was stabbed today. j-just a few hours ago...”

 

“... _what?_ ” Grillby's reaction was stone-faced, his flames dying down as he stares at you, fingers curling just slightly as his arms hang to his sides. “... was it an attack on the actual ambassador, or...?”

 

“n-no, nothing like that. i think they.... uh, they were vengeful spirits from mt. ebott...” Your voice is shaky, but for the most part, you manage to keep it together. You didn't want to lose it in Grillby's bar.

 

“... but you're not telling me everything.”

 

Mentally, you swear. Grillby was good at seeing through a lot of things – but then again, he _was_ a bartender, so it was kind of his _job_ to know about everything. Not officially, of course, but... he knew a lot of stories, even though he never talked about them or repeated them.

 

“there's... a lot more to the story than i can actually tell you, grillby.” Letting go of the bottle, you splay your hands out and breathe out, closing your eyes.

 

“... that is fair. How is Frisk holding up...?” Grillby didn't press the issue, and you were glad for that. You had no idea how you would even explain the concept of Chara to Grillby at this point.

 

“not good.” You slump down further, shivering. “i... i don't know if toriel will make it if … if frisk...” You don't finish that sentence, not wanting to think about the repercussions of that statement. You didn't even want to think about it _period._

 

“And you?” Grillby stares right at you, and you start to sweat, glancing away.

 

“w-what do you mean, grillby, what about me.”

 

Grillby stares at you for a moment with a stern expression, finally letting out a sigh and shaking his head. It seems he was letting it go. … for the moment.

 

“o-oh. about my tab...” You are surprised when Grillby waves a hand, continuing to shake his head.

 

“...It's already been paid off, Sans.”

 

“... what.” You stand up, staring at Grillby with a sour expression. “grillby...”

 

“...Sans. It's already been paid off,” He repeats, giving you that same stare. He's one of the only monsters that's been able to stare you down and actually get away with it. Bastard.

 

“... i should know better than to argue with a hothead.”

 

“...And _I_ should know better than to argue with a numbskull, right...?” You can't help but snort at his quick pun, putting a hand to your mouth and glancing to him for a brief moment. You can swear he's grinning.

 

“... go home, Sans. Your place needs to be next to Frisk right now.” He gives you a glance that makes you feel warm, and you can't help but snort again at your own mental pun. Grillby quirks an eyebrow at you, and you hold your hands up as you stand, moving to leave.

 

“... thanks, grillby.”

 

“... you are welcome any time, Sans. … you know that.”

 

You don't answer – but then again, you didn't need to. There was no one else in the bar as you gave the room a quick glance, so you gave Grillby a short wave and disappear when you reach the doorway.

 

 

It doesn't take you long to find where Frisk is, with everyone crowded around the doorway to the bedroom inside the house, watching with sullen faces – Toriel was working alone in the room, sweat matting her fur as she worked with fire magic over the kid, her concentration at its peak.

 

Undyne was leaned against the doorway, staring at the wall, her fingers gripping her arms hard enough to leave marks on her skin – they would most likely become bruises, later. Alphys was busy typing on her phone, her eyes darting back and forth as if reading information quicker than she could process it – whatever the scientist was doing, she was trying to rush.

 

You are slightly surprised to see Asgore gripping the doorway, his eyes closed as he breathes deeply, his whole body shaking as he uselessly tried to fight off his tears.

 

You don't see Papyrus or Mettaton, and at the moment, you don't care.

 

You lower your head, still feeling responsible. You felt like their blood was on your hands, and you couldn't help but... feel like it was entirely your fault. And if Frisk died... you would never be able to forgive yourself. Not this time, and certainly not the other times, either.

 

Guilt weighs you down.

 

A hand rests on your shoulder, startling you. You glance up in surprise to see Papyrus, giving you a small, hopeful smile as he moves his head to the side, silently urging you to the next room with him. You sigh and lower your head, walking away from the rest of your friends, half led by your brother, half wandering aimlessly.

 

“Sans.” Papyrus' voice is low, and once you two are alone in the next room, he sits on the couch next to you. “It... wasn't your fault, you know.”

 

You stare at the floor, your body starting to shake as your feelings began to overwhelm you. Your brother was always there for you, even when you didn't want him to be... but you still loved him for it, even if you wanted to keep everything inside. Even if you wanted to protect him from the truth, the knowledge of resets... how could someone as great as Papyrus deal with what _you_ had to deal with? How would he stay so happy, knowing what you knew, knowing it could all reset any moment in time... knowing that it _had_ reset, and you had nothing to look forward to?

 

In some timelines, you and Frisk had fallen in love. In other timelines, you were siblings, inseparable from you and Papyrus, always there for each other. In a few timelines... things had ended badly enough to where you never wanted to speak to each other again.

 

Moments were meaningless if they were just lost in time, rolled back only to be redone all over again.

 

Which timeline was this? Did it even matter? _Does it even matter to try anymore?_

 

“Brother, you know you can talk to me... right?” You finally nod, your head still lowered. “You know... you don't have to keep it inside, right?”

 

“i couldn't do anything...” You break, your eye sockets closing as you clench your fists together. “all i could do was stand there and just watch.... just... w-watch it h-h-happen...” Tears leak out of your eye sockets as Papyrus' arms pull you into a brotherly hug, holding you tight. All you can do is sob, unable to hold back anymore.

 

“i... i was supposed to go with frisk, go with them on their hike, and i just... i didn't know, i thought they'd be _fine_ , papyrus, i thought they'd be okay...!” Sobs wrench in your throat as you try to calm yourself, but it doesn't do any good – the floodgates had been opened, and every emotion you were previously holding back were now free, guilt weighing on your mind over everything you've done...

 

“It wasn't your fault,” Papyrus repeats, patting your back gently as he continues to hug you, and you don't do anything else but bury your head in his scarf, still shaking. You were shaking so hard that your bones were humming, but neither of you said anything about that.

 

“it f-feels l-like it is,” Your soul feels like it's going to break in two, and you don't know if you could handle much more of this.

 

Of course, you had been saying that to yourself timeline and timeline over again. So much, that you'd lost count.

 

“i keep dreaming about frisk dying and i can't _take_ it anymore bro, i just can't do it anymore,” You're rambling now, too far gone to really pay attention to what you're saying, but you can't form any more coherent words. You just sob, clinging tightly to your brother, sobbing endlessly as he just pats you on the back. He attempts to calm you a few times, but ends up just being there for you, being your support for your weakest moment.

 

How far you'd fallen.

 

It didn't used to affect you like this, until you had to repeat things.

 

You don't realize that you're asleep until the nightmares start up again. This time, the nightmares are different – the scene replays in your mind over and over again, the knife quickly stabbing through Frisk's chest, blood pouring out of the wound...

 

… and then, the scene shifts to a bloody corpse of a child on the ground, your feet standing in the puddle of blood, resolution set into your very bones. This scene was at least familiar. It was one where you would keep killing Frisk until they finally restarted, or until they gave up.

 

Or until they killed you.

 

With the way they were fighting, however, it was an unlikely possibility.

 

You'd be lying to yourself if you didn't secretly admit that you enjoyed it.

 

Red eyes stare at you as the child rises from the ground, using their SAVE file and... somehow, some way, slipping through your defenses with ease and slicing forward twice. The first time missed, but the second time...

 

You weren't expecting such quick attacks in a row.

 

The knife slides right through your bones.

 

You feel a sense of detachment as the knife severs your body from your soul, and you feel like you are floating as you slowly crumbled to dust...

 

 

You're falling.

 

You jerk awake with a sharp breath, staring at the room you sat in, your fingers holding a human hand.

 

Frisk.

 

They lay in bed with closed eyes, no evident sign of breathing whatsoever. A quick glance around the room tells you that you're in Alphys' lab, and Frisk is hooked up to a machine with many wires and cords that you know keeps humans alive, but... you realize with a sick pang that Frisk isn't even conscious.

 

How long did it take humans to heal...?

 

Staring at Frisk, you notice the temperature of their skin, the bedraggled condition of their clothes – Frisk wasn't wearing the sweater that Toriel had knitted them, their upper chest instead wrapped in a thick bandage. Apparently Toriel hadn't been able to heal the majority of the wound, as you could see from the slightly reddish tint of the bandage.

 

You begin to worry about other things, feeling even sicker. With Frisk being the Ambassador, and out for the count... wouldn't the humans be expecting their return sometime soon? And if so, how were they supposed to keep this on the down low? The humans already had a bad outlook over all monsters, and if this little incident was spread in the slightest...

 

Shit. This was _bad_.

 

You sigh and scoot forward a little, gripping Frisk's hand tighter. There was no way they would be out for long... right? Frisk was a pretty determined little human, and they wouldn't let something like this get the best of them... _right?_

 

You admired Frisk. You really did. Despite all odds, they had rallied for the monsters and gotten a fair bit of support – granted, there were still a lot of humans out there who actually hurt the monsters, some had actually _killed_ the monsters and turned them to dust, but Frisk had always come through in the end, for the most part.

 

You also knew that they blamed themselves for each and every monster death, even though it was well out of their control.

 

It had taken years for Frisk to get where they were in the world, and you had always tried to stay out of the way of that dream, not wanting to distract them from what _you_ thought was most important. After all, why would Frisk want to hang out with their family more than once a year, if they had a better life that kept them busy, and _happy_?

 

Frisk was the type that wanted to save everything, and you knew firsthand... that not everything could _be_ saved. But how... how could you tell that to someone with such a pure and determined soul? At least... this one was pure and determined... _and hadn't reset yet._

 

Why was this time so different?

 

Why was Frisk taking so long this time?

 

You reach up with your free hand to run your fingers over the smooth fur that lined your jacket – the one that Frisk had just bought you out of their free time, giving it to you without expecting anything in return...

 

“kiddo... i'm sorry, i'm so sorry...” Leaning forward, you press your forehead to their hand and let out a quiet sob, clutching to that cold hand as if it was the last precious thing in the world. This really _was_ entirely your fault.

 

“just... please come back. don't leave us again, buddy. just come back...”

 

“S-s... Sans.” Your moment is broken, and your head jerks up to see Alphys, holding her cell phone with nervous fingers. “W-w-we n-need to talk.” You wearily stand and reluctantly leave Frisk's hand, walking forward towards Alphys as she started to leave the room, nervously putting her phone away.

 

“what is it, alphys? can it wait?”

 

“N-no, Sans. It c-c-cannot.” Once you were out of the room, she turns to you and presses her hands together, looking tired, and alarmed. This worries you – Alphys had _never_ looked so alarmed before, save for...

 

Well. You'd already been over that path of thoughts.

 

“T-there's no easy way to s-s-say this.” She stares at you, her maw curving into a frown. “O-out of all the t-tests I've done, s-scans I've completed, w-w-well...” Alphys takes a breath, and you can swear that your bones turn cold. “F-f-frisk...” Alphys exhaled slowly, finally just stating what was causing her such distress.

 

“T-t-their body... doesn't h-h-have a soul.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was SO hard to write... but it's needed for plot reasons. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> I lied about the weekly part (yay!) - work is actually winding down and they're cutting hours, so I'm not sure when I'll get the next chapter out, but I will try my best to get it out soon. Thank you for the reviews - they definitely help cheer me up since I'm currently dealing with depression myself.
> 
> Thank you also for the many kudos! <3 to you all, and see you in the comments/next chapter!


	8. Duplicitous by Design (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everything is in black and white. Most often, lives are shades of grey, and people are driven to a purpose by their own ambitions.

**Chapter 8 – Duplicitous by Design (Part 1)**

 

 

You wake up on a cold bed, the covers loosely wrapped around you.

 

You flex your fingers slowly and carefully, staring at them as your mouth opens slightly, a yawn escaping from your throat. Cords and strange things were attached to you; annoyed, you rip them off and let them fall to the side of the bed, glaring at them with distaste.

 

Moving to stand up, you sway a little but manage to maintain your balance, walking slowly over to the mirror you had seen on the wall – you look at your reflection, tilting your head slightly and reaching up to run your shaky fingers through your short hair, making a sour face.

 

Your red eyes were the only thing that stood out from your facial features, and that couldn't really be helped. Your shoulders slump as you crack your neck, feeling relief instantly before you stretch your other limbs, testing out your arms and legs carefully. Each one popped with ease as you twisted your limbs, stretching them to their full extent.

 

This was _different_ , and it had been a _definite_ gamble. Luckily for you, it had worked out completely – Frisk's soul was gone, leaving you to take over the still living body with ease – with no resistance whatsoever.

 

There were some benefits to being a _ghost_.

 

You would have had a soul, still, but thanks to Asriel... _well._ When a soul didn't inhibit a body for a length of time, it became a ghost... and Asriel had separated you two a long, long time ago. You were still angry over that – in a way, he chose Frisk over _you._ You had been _first. You were the one that mattered._ Despite Frisk being of the bloodline, you –

 

Your head snaps to the side as your thoughts derail, eyes wide with alarm as you hear slow footsteps that sounded like a certain skeleton who you really didn't want to face right now.

 

_Sans._ The mere thought of him twisted your lips downward into a condescending sneer, and you begin to shake, unable to stop the memories you had of dealing with him... the slams against the wall, the many countless deaths,  _that megalomaniac look..._

 

You felt your sins crawling upon your back, and  _reveled_ in them. You weren't going to be swayed again.

 

Not this time.

 

Drawing yourself up to your full and rather short height, you cross your arms over your waist and stare down the hallway until he comes into view, stopping at the sight of you standing.

 

“h-how...” Came his raspy voice, disbelief dripping off of that one word. He stands there for a moment, staring at you as realization comes into his eyes, his pupils meeting yours. His left hand raises and jerks to the side the moment his left eye glows blue, and you feel a _tug_ on your body...

 

You only move a few inches.

 

You can't help but grin. Oh, this was surprising... and _delightful._

 

“Seems... you've gotten weaker over the years,” You grunt out, arms stretched to maintain your balance. Sans is glaring at you, breathing hard from... the effort? Huh, he really _was_ out of shape.

 

You can't help but laugh at the irony of the situation.

 

“I don't have a soul, Sans. But I have to ask... what shade was Frisk's soul?” You step forward, fingers curling against your palm, and you wish that there was a knife in those delicate fingers of yours. It would have been perfect, but you would settle for this. Sans was sweating at this point, and you saw him take a step back in uncertainty, until his resolve hardened and he took the same step forward again.

 

Oh. _No._

 

“i remember that look, kiddo. that same determination of never giving up, even after you _killed_ everyone... yeah, i remember...” His left hand raised and two skulls appeared behind him, eyes glowing in their eye sockets as their mouths brimmed with pulsing energy. “but riddle me this... how many times do i have to kill you _this_ time for you to _quit_?”

 

One of the skull's maws opened wide and let loose the pulse of energy, and it took everything you had just to drop to the floor to dodge it, out of sheer reflex. You turn to look behind you where the damage was done.

 

Half of the room of the lab was demolished. The wall was completely gone, obliterated by the blast from the skull's power, and a large divot was seen through a little of the mountain that lay behind the lab.

 

Shaking from mere shock, you turn to stare at him, your eyes focusing on his glowing eye as the second head comes into view, its maw opening slowly. With how you are positioned on the floor, there's no way to dodge it in time. Still, you attempt to roll and jerk out of the way –

 

You feel the energy rip through your body for a fraction of a moment, just enough to make you scream.

 

The attack suddenly stops, and after a few seconds of covering your head and attempting to breathe to make sure you were still _alive_ , you glance up to see Toriel holding Sans' wrist up, glaring at him with unabashed hatred in her eyes. Sans... he looked unsure, and slightly terrified. You can't hear much of anything except constant ringing in your ears, but it was slowly dissipating.

 

“M-mom...” You cry out, wincing as you fight to stand up, shaking your head to further clear up the static noise that remained in your head.

 

“t-tori, wait,” Sans calls, earning a growl from Toriel as she throws his arm away from her in a gesture of anger.

 

“No, Sans. _Leave._ ” She doesn't turn back to him as he stares at you both, but he doesn't leave. One of his hands is cradling his wrist, and you are slightly surprised by that.

 

Instead of leaving, Sans' now normal eyes shift to yours, and he seems _sad_ and _tired_ and _frustrated_ all at once.

 

It's a feeling you don't quite understand, but you glare back anyway, knowing that with Toriel there, he couldn't really do much of anything without her interference.

 

“My child, what happened?” She asked, kneeling down and pulling you gently into her arms, rocking you. It was a familiar feeling, being rocked, reminding you of the first time she held you...

 

No. You couldn't afford to get distracted.

 

“I... I think I said the wrong thing,” You whisper, your voice broken. It was only half true that your voice was strained; that attack had _hurt_ , and it left you drained, making it hard for you to speak. Of course, you _had_ said the wrong thing... but you left out the part where you admitted that you said it on purpose.

 

“S-s-sans, what have you _done_ ,” Came a familiar voice, and you open your eyes to see a yellow lizard scientist clinging to Sans' arm, looking at him with a very worried expression. He turns to her and they speak in a low voice, but you can't hear the rest of their conversation – Toriel's head comes into view as she looks at you with love and worry.

 

“Frisk, perhaps you should stay in your room for now...”

 

“That... sounds like a good idea.” Your head is still swimming, and you can't help but lean against her with a sigh, unable to do much else but be lifted in her strong arms and carried out of the lab.

 

Neither of you look at Sans, but you pass by without any more altercations.

 

You can't help but glance back one more time, over Toriel's shoulder. Sans is standing there with his hands in his pockets, staring at you while the lizard scientist was talking to him in what looked to be great detail.

 

His eye sockets narrowed, and your grip tightens on Toriel's arm in defense. That look definitely meant that he wasn't going to let you out of his sights.

 

This was far from over.

 

***

 

It had been three days since you stayed in your room, avoiding everyone and everything. Right now, you sat up with your arms wrapped around your legs, staring at the wall as you let your thoughts consume you.

 

It had taken a lot of planning on your part – 7 years worth, to be exact – and the exact moment played out the right way you wanted. Frisk had reset before, of course, delaying the inevitable, but this time... this time was different, and when Frisk's soul left their body... they gave up their ability to _reset_.

 

You couldn't reset without their Soul. Not anymore.

 

The perfect strike of your knife at the right moment had solved that little dilemma of any conflict, but there was currently the dilemma of actually _finding_ where the soul had _gone_ so you could reset again.

 

Of course, you couldn't go out and look for it, not with Sans looming outside of the house, waiting for you to make one wrong step. Even though you'd fought against him countless times before, Frisk had not killed any monsters, or gained any LV... leaving you weak and defenseless, unable to do anything about it.

 

It made you angry, but there was still nothing you could do about it, except stare at the wall in Frisk's room, pretending that it was your own.

 

Toriel had come up earlier, bringing her specialty pie – one of the few things you'd actually liked about the monster.

 

When you bit into it, you tasted snails.

 

You couldn't help but wonder if Sans had anything to do with it.

 

Nevertheless, you leave the half eaten pie on the desk and flop back against the bed, letting out a frustrated sound. It was exhausting, being cooped up in a room when it wasn't by choice.

 

“enjoying the snail pie, kiddo?” You jerk upright again as panic sets in, your skin hot with terror as you glance around the room, seeing Sans sitting in the chair against the dresser. You scramble backwards against your headrest to distance yourself from the short skeleton, terror still coursing through your blood as you stare at his glowing blue eye.

 

“buddy, pal... you and me need to have a serious _heart to heart_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HOPE PEOPLE LIKE THIS I know I'm really stretching it with the ghostliness but I really really loved this concept too much to not use it. ;;
> 
> Also, I really enjoyed (probably way too much) giving Chara snail pie instead of Toriel's usual specialty.
> 
> As usual your comments are loved!! <3


	9. Duplicitous by Design (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everything is in black and white. Most often, lives are shades of grey, and people are driven to a purpose by their own ambitions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the earlier cliffhanger! I had to split up the chapters because it would have been 5k words for one chapter otherwise >>;;

**Chapter 9 – Duplicitous by Design (Part 2)**

 

 

“now, it might just be me, but i know for a _fact_ that the frisk i know would _never_ act like that.” Sans states, shoving his hands further in his pockets as he stands, walking nonchalantly towards you. You're pinned against the bed as he leans into you, his pupils completely gone, leaving you to stare into the blackened void of his eye sockets. “especially to _me_.”

 

You open your mouth, taking a ragged, shaky breath to scream.

 

“don't bother... toriel is off on errands. it's just you and me, _buddy_.” His left eye glows that vibrant blue you're ever so familiar with, and you inwardly _cringe_ , your body outwardly shaking as you close your mouth. You feel his bony fingers grip the neck of your shirt, lifting you up just slightly.

 

“start talking, kiddo. you know how i get when my patience is worn down to the _bone_.”

 

“Alright! Alright.” Raising your hands up, you reveal your empty palms in surrender, breathing hard. “I can't get anything past you, damn.” Sans stares at you, his eye sockets still black and lifeless. He waited.

 

“... no, I'm not Frisk.” You try to breathe, his grip tightening on your shirt. Wincing, you reach up to try to pry his hand away, but it remains unmoved, almost like you were trying to push against a statue. You knew you had no choice but to tell him the truth, and you also knew that this would alter your plans slightly.

 

Of course, your plans had _already_ been altered, so what was a little more alteration to the _grand plan_?

 

“I'm... I'm the first child that fell into the Underground. Chara.” You omit anything further than that about the life you'd had _before_ the fall, but when he keeps staring at you, you suppress a shiver and continue on. “I'm, uh... the one that's been controlling Frisk in alternate timelines.”

 

You narrow your eyes when his fingers tighten further. How _dare_ he? You know you're getting angry, and you know you need to control your temper, but... you can't help but press on. After all, that's what you did best when you were _Flowey_. Suddenly, a thought came into your head, and you can't help but grin very slowly.

 

“You might know me better as _Flowey_ ,” You confess, your gaze defiant. “Tell me, does your brother _miss me_? How _is_ Papyrus, anyway?” Sans' grip tightens, and you know that you're getting through somehow, but... he still hadn't lost it. Not yet.

 

You needed to press more.

 

“Of course... you probably remember me best in the golden hallway, with the pretty stained glass windows. Tell me, did you paint them with my blood, or was it more satisfactory to see my blood staining the tiled floor in that room?” You knew you were getting somewhere when Sans' left eye began glowing blue again, his face leaning in to brush against yours.

 

“buddy. i should have killed you when i had the chance.” He lifts you up from the bed, leaving you dangling and struggling to right yourself, trying to use the bed as leverage but failing miserably.

 

“Nonono, wait,” You panic. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. This wasn't how _any of it_ was supposed to go. Didn't Sans care about the state that this body was in?

 

“you really wanna have a bad time, huh, kiddo?” You were lifted off the bed completely now, his fingers leaving you... but you were still floating in the air. Glancing down at your hands revealed that you were glowing, being suspended by Sans' powers, and the look on your face must have tipped him off from the way he tilts his head at you. Sans takes a step back and puts his right hand in his pocket, keeping his left one out with fingers spread, the same blue glow pulsing from his fingers.

 

“surprised, kiddo? it took me a while to figure out... but with enough thought... i realized that i had to go about it a different way.” His head tilts, making his neck audibly crack. It didn't seem to faze him. “you still have a soul, but it's... a different _shade_ than frisk's is, despite certain things.”

 

His pupils disappeared entirely.

 

“should we find out just how much _determination_ your soul can take?” Your eyes widen further as your breath quickens.

 

“No, no, nonononononono–” Your body is slammed against the wall, cutting you off as you try to plead with the skeleton. Your breath is forced out of your body, and Sans lets you go, watching as your body slumps down to the floor.

 

You double over, wheezing, rolling forward to crouch down on the floor. Through your breath, you don't hear Sans approach, but you definitely see his slippers in front of your face. You recoil, the panicked thought running through your mind that he might drop kick you _through_ the wall.

 

He'd done it before, timelines ago.

 

You feel your chest become slightly damper, and pressing your hand to your chest reveals that your wound had opened up, blood slowly seeping through the bandages. _Shit._

 

“buddy, _pal._ you and me? we're gonna take a little stroll through the woods... and we're gonna go on an extra special _treasure hunt_ , to make up for that little stunt you pulled earlier. got it?” Your body is forced up again, his bony fingers twisting into your clothes, pulling at the neckline of your shirt – all you can do is nod in reply.

 

“wipe that look off your face... it doesn't suit you at all, kid.” The lights in Sans' eyes return, tiny minuscule dots that stare at you, making your spine shiver in retaliation.

 

“You _idiot._ ” You yell, finally snapping. It didn't occur to you that you had been the first one to break. “If you kill me, you'll _never_ get Frisk back. Their soul is probably out there, still rotting on the ground _like it should be_ –” Strong fingers press against your neck, squeezing the air out of your throat in a slow, threatening manner.

 

“ _ **w h a t d i d i j u s t s a y**_?”

 

You feel the color drain from your face as the familiarity of the tone sinks in, and after a much-too long moment, Sans lets go, dropping you to the floor in a nonchalant manner.

 

“let's go, buddy. time's a wastin'.” Giving you a blank stare, he holds out his hand for you to take, which you do – reluctantly. You close your eyes for a brief moment, and when you open them again, you see the forest in front of you, and a sickening feeling in your stomach.

 

A few seconds later and you're staring at the remains of your half-eaten snail pie. You clutch your stomach in pain, wheezing and glaring at Sans with his teleportation trick – there was no way he _hadn't_ done that on purpose.

 

You stand up to glare, your hand pressing against your upper chest as you fight to control your breathing.

 

“Dog of War,” You hiss, still feeling nauseous, attempting to stall the blood flow of your wound.

 

“ _ **w h a t d i d y o u c a l l m e**_?” Sans turned, looking like death itself, both of his eyes glowing white with what looked to be pure hatred. You stick your jaw out and clench your teeth together, glowering in return.

 

“You heard me, _Dog of War._ You may not remember much, but I remember clearly how you fought for Gaster, was his _servant_ in the war of the humans and monsters–” Your sentence is cut off as you're slammed against a tree, once again left scrambling for air. Sans is staring at you, saying nothing.

 

“ _Let me finish, you fucking waste of a mongrel._ ” You snarl out, trying to slam against him to get him to _shove off_ , not really doing much of anything in the way of getting away. He still held you like you were still just a child.

 

“don't talk about people when they're listening, buddy. _it's rude._ ” Sans states, slamming you against the tree again for good measure. You swear that you could feel every slam create a new bruise or mark of its own, and the feeling was both painful and exhilarating. It had been so long since you'd actually had a body, and your reaction to the feeling? _Indescribable._ If you didn't know any better, you'd swear it was a turn on for you.

 

You're breathing heavily, a flush coming to your cheeks as you stare at him, urged on by his expression. “Gaster was the _worst_ , you know. Didn't care about anyone but his own goals...”

 

“ _shut up, kid._ ”

 

“... and didn't really care much about life, either.”

 

“ _stop talking._ ”

 

“How long did he use you, Sans? How long were you subjected to do his bidding, and attack defenseless humans as nothing more than his mere _pet_?” Your arms are free, so you reach forward and press your palms to Sans' bony cheeks, managing to lean forward just a bit. A bit of your blood smudges on Sans' cheek. “You've killed more than just me, over and over again. That's why you weren't afraid in the first place. _You've killed before._ ” You laugh, the sound echoing sharply as you kept Sans' attention – his hand didn't move, despite him holding you against the tree still.

 

“Oh, aren't you glad that Frisk doesn't _know_? Imagine how they'd feel if they knew how many times you've _killed them_ , Sans.”

 

“be silent.” Sans' grip tightened, and your face darkened.

 

“Imagine Frisk knowing how many other _humans_ you've _killed_ ,” You continue, crooning.

 

“ _shut up._ ”

 

“No. I will _not_ be silenced. Not anymore.” Your fingers wrap around the skeleton's wrist, and you marvel at the amount of work that went into his creation. Had Gaster known what he was doing, all this time?

 

It didn't matter. You had to keep talking, keep stalling, while your eyes glanced to the side every so often to try to look for Frisk's heart. It had to be around here somewhere.

 

“Imagine how they'd feel about you if they knew you fought in the _war._ How many _humans before them_ you've killed... you definitely worked hard for those kills, Sans. _I watched you._ ” Your eyes narrow as your memories surface, and you state them as if they had just been made yesterday. “You probably don't remember me, but I was one of the humans who worked their magic to put up the barrier, and get rid of you monsters... not many humans had magic, and even fewer had _determination,_ but we had to make sure the deed was done by those who _had the gift._ We had to sacrifice a lot of children to make sure that barrier would _stay._ ” You pause, your gaze darkening as you enunciate your words, making sure Sans would hear you very clearly.

 

“After all... _you never belonged in this world to begin with._ ” When you state this, you're not talking about the monsters... no, you are specifically thinking about Gaster himself, and the skeleton dogs he brought with them. They were intelligent beasts if a little too loyal for your tastes... but you believed deep in your heart that Gaster had been the cause of the war in the first place.

 

This whole thing was entirely the fault of the man who spoke with his hands.

 

Him and those _damn dogs_ of his.

 

“No!” Both of you seem to snap out of your own little worlds, heads snapping together with a clunk as both of you recoil from each other, wincing in pain. You look down to see a rather familiar flower on the ground, vines and leaves wrapped around a red heart.

 

It was Frisk's heart. _What luck._ You find yourself reaching for it, wincing as a vine snapped weakly at your hand, making a small cut.

 

“What the hell, Asriel. I thought we were _friends._ ” You glower at the tiny thing, half tempted to step on it and put it out of its misery. You're in a lot of pain, and the added cut only added to the injury. For now, though, you ignored your wounds.

 

“You were mean to Frisk,” The flower states, trembling under your gaze. “I... I don't want you to hurt Frisk anymore. Please don't hurt my friends anymore.”

 

“But Asriel... I'm your _only_ friend.” You can feel the venom drip freely off of your words, and you crouch down to reach out for the heart. “Please, Asriel? It would mean so much to me if you just _trusted_ me.”

 

“and look where trustin' ya gets people, kid.” You stiffen, having forgotten that Sans was still there – he was a wildcard and had definitely thrown a wrench into your plans of trying to get Frisk's heart. He looks at you, devoid of any expression – you're afraid now, unable to tell what exactly he's going to do. Sans kneels down in front of the flower, outstretching his hand in front of the flower.

 

“hey, buddy. you're a friend of frisk's?” The flower reluctantly nodded, waving a shy leaf at Sans. “good. this will make things easier. frisk ever talk about me? the punny skeleton with bad jokes?”

 

“All the time!” The flower seems to cheer up a bit, and it rests a leaf on one of Sans' fingers, a smile spreading on its face.

 

It makes you sick, and you make a disgusted sound, looking away. You don't have to see it to feel a glare from Sans.

 

“U-um, Frisk m-misses you a lot, and they're sad all the time, but they... they still love you. But... can you try not to make Frisk sad so much? Can... can you make sure that they get their heart back?” The flower now turns to look at you, and you make another sound of disgust, crossing your arms and turning away completely.

 

“yeah, kid. i can definitely do that for ya.” Your head turns slightly to see the heart being relinquished to Sans, and your gaze drops. If Sans kept Frisk's heart... well, that put a wrench into your entire plans altogether. _Fuck._ Fucking wildcard dog of war.

 

“hey. buddy.” You ignore Sans, letting out a sound between a huff and a growl. “... i'm talkin' to ya, kiddo.”

 

“What!?” Turning, you see Sans holding Frisk's heart, the skeleton's head tilted to the side as he continues to walk towards you. You try to take a step back out of pure reaction, bumping against the tree instead.

 

“give me my frisk back.” You have no time to react before the heart is shoved roughly into your body, making you cough roughly and stagger back against the tree, tears filling your eyes.

 

No. _NO._

 

You fight for control.

 

_You fight for control._

 

This is your body.

 

_This is my body._

 

THIS IS MY BODY, AND YOU CANNOT HAVE IT. NOT AGAIN.

 

_You're fighting with yourself, and you're fighting with not-yourself. There is a darkness in you, now, one that feels familiar yet so foreign; it's a murderous beast that wants nothing more than to watch others suffer, wanting revenge on so much for the cost of what they had to live through._

 

_Revenge._

 

_The word was simple. The practice was not._

 

_Turmoil rages in your soul as you fight against yourself. You are for peace._

 

_You are for war._

 

_You are for protecting._

 

_You are for slaying._

 

_YOU ARE FOR DETERMINATION._

 

_No..._

 

Just give up already...

 

_No! I will never give up... I have to stay determined!_

 

…..

 

 

All you see is darkness.

 

The feeling is too familiar for your liking.

 

You're standing in a golden hallway, pretty stained windows shining light through to the marble floor, your eyes closing in a brief moment. You'd reset plenty of times, just to befriend everyone again, to see the way their faces lit up every time you told a terrible joke...

 

This time, however, it felt wrong.  _Vile._ You feel something crawling upon your back, and when you walk forward you see Sans standing there, looking almost as if he was...  _judging you_ .

 

It filled you with determination. No, that wasn't right...

 

It filled you with  _dread._

 

You hear a strange noise and look down to see that your legs are shaking, and you can't figure out why. Everyone was your friend here, right?

 

“Sans,” You call out, putting on a smile, about to run forward when his chilly voice stops you in your tracks.

 

“heya. you look frustrated about something...”

 

“W-what?”

 

“guess i'm pretty good at my job, huh?”

 

What was Sans talking about? Panic sets into your soul as you take a step back, but your heart is already out in the open, and you realize that you're fighting someone.

 

… you're going to fight Sans.

 

You feel like you're going to have a bad time.

 

“it's a beautiful day outside.” You glance out the window, feeling your body sweat, skin becoming cold.

 

“Sans, wait...” You try to reason.

 

“birds are singing, flowers are blooming...”

 

He continues to speak, ignoring your words.

 

“Sans, _please_...”

 

You're pleading now, tears leaking out of your eyes. This was wrong. _This was so wrong._ What had you done to make Sans like this? _What had happened!?_

 

“on days like these, kids like you...”

 

You turn to him, hands outstretched as your mouth opens, but no words come out as he continues to speak, left eye glowing blue.

 

“. . . _**s h o u l d b e b u r n i n g i n h e l l .**_ ”

 

You don't have any time to react before Sans' left hand whipped out, shifting the color of your soul to blue and slamming you against the floor, making your body recoil in pain. It refuses to function, to move, the abuse against your body making you feel like you were hit by a truck.

 

You're screaming now, pain racing through your body as bones speared through your torso, the sudden agony of the wounds sending you spiraling into unconsciousness.

 

Your heart snaps in two.

 

_You reload._

 

You are staggering to your feet and take a moment to regain yourself. You feel something on your hands and turn them over to look at them, a sickening feeling crawling in the pit of your stomach.

 

Dust. _There was dust on your hands._

 

You're shaking again as you walk forward, seeing Sans standing there with the same judging look on his face.

 

“S-sans,” You try to speak to him again, but he isn't listening. Your gaze drops to the floor, and you find a knife in your hands... how did it get there? _Why were you holding a knife?_

 

You didn't realize that Sans was talking again, until you feel your body slam against the floor once more, the knife clattering away from your hands as you roll out of the way of his bone attack. You allow yourself a small moment of time to breathe before you see a large skull of what resembled a dog, its maw opening wide and blasting pure energy at you.

 

You feel your body dying, and let out a shrill scream, trying to hold on.

 

“huh. always wondered why people never use their strongest attack first,” Sans stated as his hand dropped, and you are left there on the floor, feeling your determination fade. Your arm stretches out towards Sans, away from the knife, but the look in the skeleton's eyes makes your blood run cold, regretting everything you've ever done.

 

“ **for killing everyone without mercy... go to hell and s t a y t h e r e , k i d _._ ”**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaa I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope everything makes sense so far! I went back and did a little research on things and came up with a clan idea of certain humans who were able to use magic/make the barrier, since it states in the intro that humans actually used magic to seal away the monsters. More details of that will come in later chapters!
> 
> Also, 300 kudos! THANK YOU SO MUCH you all mean a lot to me thank you thank you ;; <333


	10. When the Dam Breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now it's your turn to discover your inner demons... but do you listen to them, or run away?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and read through the chapters, and added a few things in the last chapter that kind of hint towards further chapters. I also added a few minor things, prose wise, to former chapters. I FIXED A LOT OF THINGS. I would recommend going back and reading them (especially the last chapter if you decide to skip the rest).
> 
> Thank you so much for the support!

**Chapter 10 – When the Dam Breaks**

 

You jerk awake with a scream, your face wet with your tears, sobs wracking through your whole body as you fight to throw the covers off of you.

 

Everything had felt so real. _Too_ real. Even now, you shakily stare at your hands, feeling your blood that pooled there, unable to escape the feeling of it. The _memory._ It was a dream, but... _you remembered._

 

You remembered every single timeline that you'd ever done, even when you weren't the one in control.

 

You believed you had only reset a few times, ten at most, simply because you wanted to relive the new relationships over and over again, when in reality, you had reset _so much more than that..._ sometimes against your will.

 

Why didn't you remember the other resets before now? You had killed. _You had killed._ You could still _feel_ the dust on your hands, staining your fingers even though you couldn't _see_ any sort of residue on your palms and fingers – but you still remembered the _feeling_. _God_ , did you remember the feeling. Your back itched as you shivered, and you lower your hands to wrap around your waist, a keening cry working its way out of your throat.

 

You'd fought them countless times. You had _murdered_ them relentlessly, over and over and over again...

 

“Frisk?” The sound of your name makes your head jerk up, and you see Sans sitting on the bed next to you, his gaze wary and worrisome.

 

“Sans...” You're shaking as you slowly reach for him, your whole body shaking against your will, pulling him close and hugging him tightly as you continue to sob. “I... I j-just had the w-worst nightmare.” You cling to him as if he's your only life support, relaxing only a minor bit in the fact that he hugged you back. You knew for a fact that they weren't nightmares. “I tried to kill you, so many times, I... you kept defending yourself, b-but you k-killed me, too...”

 

“Kiddo...” The tone in his voice is a sigh, as if he doesn't believe you.

 

You stiffen and pull back, terror on your face as you speak again. “S-sans... I... I didn't _mean_ it, I... I d-didn't _know_... why... _why are you still here?_ How the hell can you look at me like that? _I don't understand why you stay around me._ ” You know now that it's definitely a memory – not just a nightmare anymore. By his reaction and expression... you feel like he doesn't believe you.

 

“Frisk.” He states gently, reaching up to rest his hands on your face, pulling you close to stare at you eye to eye, faces just mere inches apart. “It wasn't you. It was _never_ you.” Sans' voice is gentle, lacking the humor it had previously contained. Your sobs only increase as his fingers begin to stroke your face, attempting to calm you further.

 

“B-but,” You stutter, and stop when he shakes his head.

 

“There's no way that you could ever harm someone with a gentle soul such as yours. Besides, it was just a dream, right, kiddo?”

 

“T-there's dust on m-my hands, Sans. _I can still feel it._ It w-won't go aw-way...”

 

“Shhh. Calm down, love.” Sans pulls you into his chest, arms encircling around you as he begins to rock you, fingers stroking through your short hair. He had never done something like this before, and you're shocked into silence, despite your whole body convulsing with silent sobs.

 

“S-sans,” You try again, but he says nothing more, continuing to rock you back and forth, fingers tousling in your hair.

 

Both of you are quiet for a long time.

 

“Sans... I... I need to talk about it.” You try again, feeling his body still, and when he pulls away you want to cry out and cling to him again, cling to that life support you so desperately needed.

 

“Okay. Let's talk.” His hands slip into his jacket pockets, and he stares at you with a cool gaze, waiting.

 

You swallow hard, hands resting on the bed in front of you two.

 

“Frisk?” Toriel's familiar voice echoed from outside of your door with a knock, and Sans' expression blanks as he looks away.

 

“Y-yeah, mom,” You call in return, reaching up to wipe the tears from your face, moving to stand up. The door opens and Toriel is instantly defensive once she sees your tears, flames floating above her palm as she outright _glares_ at Sans.

 

“ _What did you do this time!?_ ”

 

“Mom, no!” You stagger in front of Sans, both hands spread outward in front of you, your chest still heaving as you try to quell the erratic sobs. “I... I had a nightmare, he's _helping_. Please, mom... p- _please_...”

 

You break down again, unable to stop. Why weren't you able to stop? Usually, you just kept everything inside, forcing it away until you were alone and could deal with your emotions yourself. But now? Now, you were a complete wreck, and Toriel strides forward to envelop you in her arms, holding you tightly and soothing you with her fingers, brushing them over you in calm, slow gestures meant to comfort you.

 

“My child...”

 

It feels like hours pass until you're finally able to collect yourself again.

 

“There, my child. Do you want to talk about your dream?”

 

“Nightmare,” You corrected, rubbing at your eyes tiredly.

 

“Nightmare,” Toriel amended.

 

“Everyone was dead,” You state, plainly, simplifying the entire scenario. Another shiver ran down your back – you didn't _want_ to remember any of it, but you knew you would. “I... really would like to forget it.”

 

“Oh.” Toriel murmurs almost inaudibly, hugging you tight again. “I'm... I'm so sorry, my child.”

 

“Me too,” You reply, clinging back and burying your face in her chest, too tired to shed any more tears.

 

*****

 

Sans was gone by the time you're done hugging it out with Toriel, and you are left to change your clothes, given a bit of privacy for the moment. Your mother was very worried about you, but after assuring her that most of it had to do with being an ambassador, she seemed satisfied by that answer, and went downstairs to make you something to eat.

 

Maybe this ambassador business was getting to you more than you thought it was.

 

Taking off your shirt, you wince and put a hand gently to your chest, looking down and seeing a clean bandage around it, padded very well. Further pressure earned a hiss from your lips, and you shivered at feeling a spark of pain envelop from your sternum outwards.

 

Walking to the closet, you find your clothes already unpacked from your suitcase, mentally thanking whoever had actually done you that small service. You pick out a black button up shirt, walking to the mirror and watching yourself slowly work at the buttons from the top down.

 

The mirror shifts, and you see red eyes staring at you from your own reflection.

 

“You should avoid them, you know.” Your reflection spoke, and your hands shook as they dropped to your sides.

 

“N-no...”

 

“Yes. They only mean you harm.” The figure in the mirror didn't move, except for a small tilt of the head.

 

“Y-you're … you're not me.” You're shaken up, and you have to force yourself to finish dressing, eyes never leaving the mirror.

 

“Of course I'm not you. I'm Chara.” The figure in the mirror gave a small smile, shaking their head.

 

“Leave me alone.” You take a step back from the mirror, visibly shaking now as you finish dressing yourself, heading for the door.

 

“No, wait–” But you don't wait. You've left your room, and take the steps downstairs two at a time, glancing into the kitchen and seeing Toriel baking away. She seems happier that you're dressed now, sauntering over and giving you a gentle hug. Well, as gentle as she could manage.

 

“Dinner won't be ready for a few hours, do you want to walk around town for a bit? Papyrus should be outside. And Sans too, I suppose.” Her look darkens, and without another word, she turns away with your jaw open.

 

“Why... are you so mad at Sans, mom?” You take a step back as soon as you hear pots banging, and she only gives you a _look_ to send you scurrying out the door as fast as you could.

 

It was probably better not to ask.

 

You hear voices at the edge of the doorway. You stop, craning your head around just enough to see both Papyrus and Sans standing a few feet away, just edges from the trees. You couldn't make out the first part of their conversation, but now you were listening.

 

“FRISK DESERVES TO KNOW, BROTHER.” Papyrus stated to Sans, staring down at the shorter skeleton with a look of dismay.

 

“not right now, papyrus.” Sans lifts an arm and waves away as he starts to walk off.

 

“NO, BROTHER. RIGHT NOW IS THE PERFECT TIME.”

 

“they don't need to know, okay? let it go. you don't understand.”

 

“YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO REMEMBERS, SANS.” Sans stopped dead in his tracks as Papyrus spoke, his gaze turning towards his brother with a look of shock.

 

You had never seen that look on Sans before.

 

“papyrus... what are you talking about?”

 

“YOU KNOW VERY WELL WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT.”

 

“enlighten me.”

 

“THE TIMELINES. YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO REMEMBERS THEM.”

 

Sans' expression is lost on you – he looks... _broken._ He doesn't respond, either. The shorter skeleton just stared at his brother with a forlorn expression, hands shaking as he takes a step forward.

 

“IF YOU DON'T TELL THEM, I WILL. BUT FRISK DESERVES TO KNOW.” Papyrus stood a little straighter, arms crossing over his waist as he stared down at his brother with a look of nonchalance. This was a new look for Papyrus, as well – usually he was a _lot_ more expressive than this, and a lot more... _carefree._

 

“so you want to explain to frisk how their nightmares are real? that they're actually reliving the timelines that they went through before?”

 

_W h a t?_

 

You must have made a noise, because both of them turn to look at you, and you're shrinking against the door with alarm. What had Papyrus meant, about the timelines? What had _Sans_ meant, about your nightmares being real?

 

“Frisk–” Papyrus states, stretching out a hand for you as he walks towards you, but you're off running, sprinting hard from the house, wanting nothing more than to get away from everything and think over what you'd just overheard.

 

You hear a whistling sound before you're yanked off of the ground, picked up by strong arms and thrown over a boney shoulder. The wind is knocked out of you, and with your shuddering body, you turn to see that you've been slung over Papyrus' shoulder.

 

“Running away isn't the answer, Frisk.” The taller skeleton glances to the side at you as he speaks in a gentle voice, holding your arms that are currently wrapped around his neck. You can't do much of anything else, as you're half draped over his back and shoulder, so all you can do is listen as he walks back to the house. You think you're going back inside, but he changes direction and heads into the woods, and you spot Sans a fair bit ahead, looking nervous.

 

You swallow hard.

 

“Am I in trouble?” You can't help but ask, fingers curling around the girth of Papyrus' upper chest as you fight to keep your balance on his shoulder.

 

“No, Frisk. You aren't in trouble. You just... need to learn the truth about some things, despite _some skeletons_ keeping it from you.” Papyrus stated as he caught up to Sans, giving him a look.

 

Sans looked away, sweating.

 

_The truth? They want to kill you, Frisk._

 

“No...” You cling to Papyrus, burying your face in his chest. You didn't want to hear the voice in your head – it sounded like the same voice that was trying to talk to you in the mirror.

 

And then it clicked.

 

They were the same red eyes that had plunged the knife into your form on the mountain path.

 

_Oh? That took longer than usual. Not the sharpest crayon in the box, but not quite the dullest, either. Good job._

 

You silently fume, but ignore the voice for now until you're alone and not among company that you actually care about. Your chest still hurt, and taking a few days of downtime would give you time to deal with... whoever was in your mind and/or soul.

 

_The name is Chara._

 

Chara.

 

 _And I killed for you. You're not_ quite _the last of the bloodline, but you'll do._

 

“FRISK!”

 

You jerk to attention when both skeletons call your name, blinking owlishly as Papyrus picks you up and sets you gently on the ground. You'd have to ask what that meant later, but for now...

 

Papyrus and Sans had your full attention.

 

They both sat and faced you, tilting their heads rather quizzically (and almost animal like, you had to admit) until you took the hint and sat down, letting out a long breath.

 

“So... these nightmares. They're... they're real. That's why I woke up crying, because it... it _felt_ real.” You turn to Sans, your eyes haunted.

 

“Well... yes, and no,” Papyrus interjected, scratching at his cheek in an anxious manner, as if he was trying to find the right words to say.

 

Sans sighed. “Kiddo, look. The dreams you've been having... you're basically reliving those timelines in those dreams because subconsciously? You can't handle it. You never could, because you're a pacifist. And like I've said before, there's no way you could ever harm anyone, because you have a gentle soul.”

 

“YES!” Papyrus states, making you jump. He looks apologetic, laughing a bit. “Nyeh heh heh, sorry, Frisk. But yes, Sans is right. Your soul is pure and gentle.”

 

“But... in those other timelines... I've killed.” You stare at your hands, feeling your eyes sting. “I felt the dust on my hands. It felt so _real_. But... if that was real, and you guys are still here...”

 

“Alternate timelines. They're a bit tricky, but the point is that _you're_ here and so are _we_.” Sans reaches forward and flicks your forehead lightly, making you recoil and wince.

 

“The hell was that for!?”

 

“Don't be a _numbskull_ ,” Sans chuckles, his laugh only deepening when you scowl at him.

 

“Sans, now is not the time for jokes.” Papyrus chides, and Sans becomes mollified.

 

“Sorry, bro.”

 

“Anyway,” Papyrus continued, looking at Sans, motioning for him to continue.

 

“There are alternate timelines, different variables that can sprout off from different actions. Each action has a reaction, and the theory about alternate timelines is that one action could gain a different story, a different string of events... even taking the other path can lead to alternate events of even _more_ events. The possibilities are endless.”

 

You stare at Sans, your jaw feeling like it was becoming unhinged. Well... that explained the quantum physics book inside of the joke book, inside of the physics book, inside of _another_ joke book...

 

“Sans, you're _confusing_ them!”

 

“Ah, uh... sorry. I'll put it in a simpler manner.” Sans sweated, letting out a sigh. Like Papyrus, he also scratched his cheek, and you found it endearing that the brothers had similar mannerisms. Why hadn't you noticed this before?

 

“Basically, uh, since this... is the timeline you stuck with, this is the reality. All of the others ceased to be once you reset and chose a different path.”

 

“... oh.” Was all you said, tucking your hands into your lap and staring at the grass. This was honestly... a lot to take in. “Then why... why do I still remember every detail? Every breath, every touch...”

 

Papyrus and Sans look at each other, confusion in their eyes.

 

“You... shouldn't remember in _that_ much detail, Frisk.” Papyrus murmurs softly, raising a bone ridge above his eye socket. “Sans might have more on that, since I don't remember that much, but I still have feelings about certain situations.”

 

“Ah,” Sans replied, glancing to his brother with a look of understanding. “That explains a lot of things.” Papyrus nodded, a smile gracing his face.

 

“I feel like I can remember everything. I don't _want_ to remember it all.” You stand, and the other two reluctantly stand as well, still looking at each other.

 

“kiddo.” Sans shoves his hands in his pockets, the carefree attitude returning. “you can't let it get you down. just keep doing what you're doing, and you'll be fine.”

 

“... okay.” You nod at him, and Sans seems rather relieved that you're dropping the subject – you make a mental note to talk to him later. Alone. There were still so many questions that popped up in your mind, such as _why_ you remembered things in such great detail, and _why_ the two skeletons remembered things, as well...

 

And then another thought enters your mind, and you speak it before you chicken out. There was no time like the present... right?

 

“We're going on a date, Sans. No argument.” The statement startles the shorter skeleton, and Papyrus looks away, hiding a very wide grin. You try not to think about how red your face feels.

 

“kiddo, we've been over this. dating isn't–”

 

“Sans.” You interrupt. “You owe me.” You cross your arms, looking and feeling put out.

 

“oh? how so, kiddo?” Sans crosses his arms in return, his pupils dissipating so that his eye sockets went completely black.

 

“Because I paid off the entirety of your bar tab at Grillby's.” You weren't budging on this.

 

“SANS!” Papyrus interjects, turning to his brother with a look of dismay.

 

“... fair point.” Sans sighs, conceding and looking away. “shut it, papyrus.” He can't argue with you on that particular matter, nor did he want to get into it with his brother right there, either. Papyrus closes his mouth, instead looking at Sans with a incredulous expression.

 

“You will have to enlighten me _later,_ brother.” Now Papyrus is crossing his arms, and Sans is sweating even more, head ducking lower.

 

“Besides,” You add, letting out a huff, more than amused by the look Papyrus was giving Sans. “After all I've been through... I need something like this as a _pick me up_.” Sans' eyes returned, one winking at you as he tilts his head.

 

“Nooo....” Papyrus groans, turning away.

 

“did you just... make a pun at me?” There was slight humor in his voice.

 

“NOOOOO!” Papyrus clutches his head in mock outrage, stumbling away. “THE PUNS! YOU TWO ARE TERRIBLE AND YET SUCH PERFECT DATES FOR EACH OTHER!”

 

“Maybe?” You question back as you fight to keep from laughing at Papyrus' antics, and Sans' eyes shine a bit lighter than before.

 

“heh. nice.” Sans takes a breath, glancing to Papyrus with a grin. “alright, kiddo. do you have somewhere specific in mind for this date of ours?” He extends a hand out to you, and you take it, your cheeks feeling warm.

 

“Yeah. But first... I have a little shopping to do.”

 

“THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL HELP YOU WITH SHOPPING! WITH! UNDYNE'S! HELP! LET ME GO FETCH HER!!!” And off he ran. Sans squeezed your hand gently, tilting his head at you.

 

“penny for your thoughts?”

 

“I... honestly feel like I'm about to have a bad time.”

 

Sans' _humerus_ laughter echoes in your ears.

 


	11. Mistaken Judgment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparing for a date can lead to some unexpected situations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had SO much fun writing this chapter! A. A. A. A. A. (Screaming very slowly but with great determination)
> 
> Again, any comments and raves are MUCH appreciated, and definitely make me smile. I'm trying to write more fluff for you guys, but there's a lot of plot to this that keeps throwing a wrench in anything I try to do...
> 
> I also changed the rating to Explicit, because we're going to get into some heavy stuff here in the next few chapters with a lot of racism and more graphic scenes. I figured it was better safe than sorry.

**Chapter 11 – Mistaken Judgment**

 

 

You found yourself in the rather large clothing store of the mall near to where you were staying, inwardly groaning at the predicament you found yourself in. Papyrus _and_ Undyne had accompanied you, much to your dismay, and were creating _quite_ the commotion.

 

And by commotion, you meant that they were rampaging from department to department, both slinging outfits over their arms and shoulders in a rather quick manner. With each one that was added to the ever growing pile, your whole body felt like it dropped an inch more.

 

You _hated_ trying on new clothes. It took _forever_. And you already felt sorry for the poor retail workers that had to clean up this entire mess, because you sure as hell knew neither one of your friends would actually make an effort to put anything back, despite their determination to find you _the perfect outfit._

 

“Guys, the date is _tonight_. There is no way I'm going to be able to try all of those on _and_ make it to dinner with Sans on time.”

 

“NEVER FEAR, MY DEAR FRISK! YOU ONLY HAVE TO SAY 'YAY' OR 'NAY' TO OUR CHOICES! NYEH HEH HEH!”

 

_Dear. Lord._ You covered your face with a hand, exhaling for a long moment. At least, it would only take an hour. At most, you would miss your date with Sans – and you did _not_ want to miss your date with Sans. It had taken you _years_ to try to talk him into it, and you weren't going to back out of it now.

 

For the moment, you lean against the doorway to the dressing room that a kind retail worker had opened for you, stating an apology every minute as their look became more and more horrified – though they tried their best to hide it.

 

“Can you accept tips here?” You ask, scratching the back of your neck sheepishly.

 

“I'm sorry. I wish I could.” She bows her head in return, sighing. “I'm paid by the hour, though, so I guess it's not that bad... these monsters really go crazy, huh?”

 

“Yeah. They sure do. They may be a handful, but they're worth every moment.” You smile, and the retail worker seems a bit more lighthearted at the manner in which you talk about them.

 

“I... I just wish that they got less flak for just being around. Most of 'em are kind of friendly and... it brings a cool flavor to the town. Makes it more unique.” She stretches backwards, the fitting room key dangling on a cord around her wrist. “I just wish more people accepted them for what they are. I mean, we can't even accept people who are a different color than what we're used to in a regional setting, you know what I mean?” She glances to you again, her face reddening. “I'm sorry, I'm probably boring you. No one's ever interested in this kind of stuff anyway.”

 

You turn to her with a smile, your eyes keen. “No. I _like_ hearing about things like this. As the Ambassador, I find it _very important._ ” You give a wink to her, and she colors even redder, pressing her hands to her face.

 

“Ohmigosh you're the ambassador ohmyI'm so sorry I didn't mean to bore you–”

 

“YOUR FRIENDSHIP CLOTHING HAS ARRIVED!” Papyrus strode over and plopped the huge stack of clothing on the floor in front of you, consisting of mostly shirts and snazzy tops. He threw his arms up in the air in a graceful manner, posing for you in a rather heroic way, as if to say, _yes!_ It was kind of adorable.

 

But you had always found Papyrus adorable.

 

“You betchyer sweet bestie friend self, punk!” Undyne followed, dropping her stack of skirts and slacks next to Papyrus' pile, and it seemed like the two either collaborated on getting one thing or the other, or were in a silent competition. Shooting them a sidelong glance... you figured it was the latter, more than the former.

 

Another sigh was exhaled as you glare at the clothing.

 

“I can already tell you that half of these aren't going to fit me, and most aren't even in my style. And you two are going to put them back so _this poor woman doesn't have to deal with this bullshit._ ” And you cross your arms for good effect. You _did_ appreciate what they were doing for you, but sometimes you wondered if they even knew how to tone it down.

 

Undyne sputtered into laughter, doubling over as she whooped and coughed, trying to get air. “FRISK, OH MAN, YOUR FACE.” The fish woman slapped her knee with a loud sound, making the woman next to you jump in surprise.

 

“Are they always this rowdy?” She whispered to you, looking nervous. She was a tiny thing, with blonde hair, streaks of it dyed with an aquatic shade of blue that made her sapphire eyes stand out behind the rim of her glasses. She was thin and paler than most, but she seemed willing to stick around to help you with your... dressing dilemma.

 

“The group I hang out with? Yeah.” You can't help but grin in return, amused by Undyne's reactions. Well, you'd been working on your glare for a while, though you should have known something like that wouldn't have worked on her. “They're a motley crew, but they're _my_ motley crew, and I wouldn't trade them for the world.”

 

You cleared your throat. “Even if sometimes I'd _like_ to. Undyne, _please._ Would you like it if someone came and messed up your...” You tried to find the right analogy, wracking your brain quickly. “... spaghetti? Made it worse after so much work you put into it?”

 

“No, I'd punch them.” Undyne stared at you, then to the worker, who shrunk down even further under her gaze.

 

“If you don't put the clothes back, I'll let her punch you.” You jerk your head from the woman to Undyne, and the worker pales – the _last_ thing she looks like she wants to do is punch a monster.

 

“Alright, alright, pipsqueak. Sheesh.” Undyne bends over to pick up the clothing.

 

“Wait! I haven't gone _through_ them yet!!” You cry, throwing your hands up. Undyne threw her hands up in return. You make a sound and soon you're in a headlock, struggling in vain to break free.

 

“Mercy! MERCY!” You flail and in a few moments you're both on the ground laughing, unable to stand due to the endless fit of giggles that overcame you two.

 

Papyrus and the woman were standing there, looking at each other with a confused gaze – they finally shrug at each other and decided to wait for both of your antics to cease.

 

“Greetings, human. I am Papyrus!” He grins at the worker and holds out a hand for her to shake, which she does.

 

“H-hello. My pleasure.” She stated in return, taking his offer and shaking his gloved hand with her own meek one.

 

It takes you a few hours to go through the clothing, but you finally whittle the pile away and take another hour to actually try _on_ the clothes and parade around for Undyne and Papyrus, annoyed that at every outfit, they either disagreed, agreed to disagree, or both agreed with only _you_ disagreeing on the particular clothing choice. The store associate was helpful as well – you found out that her name was Pat – and with _her_ help you'd actually gotten a rather decent outfit put together in a much shorter time than with your friends' help.

 

Undyne was impressed. So was Papyrus.

 

You turned to look in the mirror, already liking how the outfit felt on you. It was natural, and comfy, not at all showy or glittery like other teenagers your age wore, though it did show a little cleavage, to which you didn't mind – you would be sure to wear a scarf.

 

A long sleeved black shirt that when worn, showed an upside down heart curved around your neck, a kind of mock v-neck – you traced over it with a frown before grabbing a small sheen red scarf and wrapping it around the base of your throat, nodding with satisfaction. Your fingers trace over the bandage that just peeks out under the shirt, fingering it gently and wishing that it was gone completely, but the wound hadn't been entirely healed. So, on it stayed. For the moment. It would have to – if Sans saw you without it, you know he would worry.

 

You stepped forward and turned to the side, tugging the shirt down over your slightly tight pants, a deep blue-almost black in color with swirling red designs spiraling down the side of each leg. The shoes they had found were made slightly taller than your ankle, and you flexed your toes in them, feeling steel at the tips of the boots.

 

You looked at Undyne, who gave a thumbs up. _She'd found them on purpose._ And she'd probably call them–

 

“SHIT KICKER BOOTS!”

 

… how had you _ever_ guessed?

 

Undyne looked so proud.

 

“For kickin' those other politician's butts! YEAH! GO FRISK!” Undyne did a fist pump and Papyrus joined in, both of them looking like they were almost cheering on a team.

 

Well, with that amount of enthusiasm...

 

“Um, Pat, I'll take all of these. Can I wear them out?” Wait. On second thought... “A-ah, I'll just change.” Pat blinked owlishly at you and gave a stuttered okay, letting you back into your fitting room.

 

“FRISK HAS A DATE TONIGHT!” Papyrus cooed.

 

“Ah,” Pat replied, and you can swear you hear a grin in that voice. _Great._ Announce it to the whole world, Papyrus.

 

“THE WONDERFUL DATE IS WITH MY BROTHER!”

 

_God damn it Papyrus._ Due to the tone of his voice, he was probably drawing a crowd, if he hadn't done so already with the help of Undyne. You didn't want a crowd.

 

You can feel your entire face burning, now. There's a knock on the door and you perk up slightly, clearing your throat.

 

“Yes?”

 

It was Papyrus again, and you slouch away from the door as he asks, in a quiet voice, “Frisk, are you going to make his bones rattle?”

 

You groan, covering your ears and sitting on the bench. This couldn't get any worse.

 

“Because if you do, that might overwork him, because he _is_ a lazybones, if you recall.”

 

_It got worse._

 

“Papyrus, please–”

 

“On second thought,” He continued, nonplussed. “If you _do_ manage to rattle his bones, it just might spur him into actually exercise and start a training regiment and _do_ things for a change–”

 

You rip open the door and shove Papyrus and Undyne towards the registers.

 

“ _Ahaha on second thought I'll wear them out thank you Pat it was lovely meeting you I hope you have a wonderful day BYE!”_

 

The last thing you see is Pat laughing, giving you a shy wave as you have your arms bundled around your old clothes, attempting to steer the two monsters like a herd of cats.

 

You shouldn't have expected anything more out of them. Then again, you never expected anything less.

 

The plus side was... they never made anything dull.

 

*****

 

It didn't take much convincing to drag your two friends to the food court, but it _did_ take some convincing to take Undyne from the nearest Chinese place long enough for her to stop yelling at them that their stove needed to be hotter for the food to be good.

 

You had tried explaining before that the food here was _made_ differently, but Undyne was still stuck in her ways, even after chomping down on said meal.

 

“It _still_ could have used more heat,” Undyne stated, snorting at you. All you can do is sigh, rubbing the back of your neck as you looked at Papyrus.

 

“FRISK, THIS SPAGHETTI IS AMAZING!”

 

You let out a long breath, not bothering to correct the fact that he was eating noodles.

 

“Although... it is sorely lacking in the pasta sauce. Frisk, do you have any on hand?”

 

“No, Papyrus, I'm sorry. These noodles are different.” You let out a short laugh, shaking your head at the situation.

 

“WELL... they are still very tasty.” He finishes his meal and tilts his head curiously at the fact that you're not eating anything, reaching forward to grasp your hand gently.

 

“Frisk? Are you nervous?”

 

“HECK NO!” Undyne slams her fist on the table, making a very sizeable dent in it – it also made you jump in your seat, looking like a frightened kitten. “There's **NO WAY** Frisk could **EVER** be nervous when they're going on a date! This is the most determined kid I know, and nothing **EVER** gets them down!”

 

“Thanks... for the support, Undyne.” You smile, a blush coming to your cheeks, even though you've felt less and less determined to actually do anything as of late. “But yeah, I... am a little nervous.” You are grateful for Papyrus' fingers wrapping around your own, and you give him a warm smile, which he returns.

 

“ _Whaaaaaaaaat!?_ ” Undyne cried out, standing up with passion, her expression stunned. “WE NEED! TO FIX THAT! **RIGHT**! **NOW**!” With each word, she slammed her fist on the table with emotion, making the table rather... unfit to be used again.

 

You hoped that you wouldn't get charged for that.

 

“Um... Undyne, what did you have in mind–”

 

“OBVIOUSLY LET'S ROLEPLAY!”

 

You wanted so desperately to hit a panic button, but you have no time as Undyne turns to Papyrus and points at the skeleton. “GRAB FRISK! LET'S GO! **DETERMINATION**!” You can't even catch a breath before you're picked up princess style in Papyrus' arms, face pressed against his chest as you stare up at him.

 

He winks at you. “Best to just go along with her for now, right?”

 

What had you gotten yourself _into_?

 

*****

 

You sat on the bench outside of the park, staring at Undyne and Papyrus as you leaned on your fist, slouched over. You had honestly expected more, but the “roleplaying” had devolved into Papyrus being Sans, and Undyne being you.

 

It was kind of sad to watch.

 

Undyne walked around and tried to stare at Papyrus in various poses with what he called your “determination face”, while Papyrus kept his arms crossed and attempted to look sleepy.

 

“That's not how Sans is! Sans tells a LOT more jokes than that!”

 

“I AM NOT TELLING YOU ANY OF HIS ABHORRENT JOKES.”

 

“What's the point of _roleplaying_ , then, punk!?” Undyne punched him in the arm, dashing back and making a fighting stance.

 

“FRISK DOESN'T DEVOLVE INTO VIOLENCE, EITHER! YOU ARE NOT ROLEPLAYING CORRECTLY!”

 

“AAAAAGH, WHO CARES ANYMORE!? GET READY TO FIGHT, PUNK!”

 

“YOU ASKED FOR IT, UNDYNE! NYEH HEH HEH!”

 

It only got worse from there.

 

You decide to leave them be and head back to your mom's house, still feeling nervous and antsy about the entire thing. When you arrived, you didn't see Toriel anywhere, so you made yourself at home.

 

It was still a few hours yet until the big date, and you were pacing, suddenly more nervous than before and feeling butterflies tugging bits of your stomach into little tiny fraying knots. Was this what infatuation felt like? Love? Maybe more than a crush? You didn't know.

 

“Why are you pacing so, my child?” Toriel enters the house and turns to you, paws clasping together, worry emanating from her in waves as she approaches you. “Is it Ambassador things?”

 

You sigh, a bit glad that you had someone _normal_ to talk to. “I'm nervous because I'm going on my first official date with a skeleton.”

 

Toriel smiled, positively beaming now. “Oh! You're going on a date with Papyrus?” Her worry dissipated. “I'm so glad, he's such a kind monster.”

 

“Uh, no... Sans, actually,” You admit, not really thinking things through. It probably would have been better had you said nothing at all...

 

Toriel's entire demeanor changed, shifting from former worry to _angry._ She couldn't speak for a few moments, her lips twitching ever upward into a snarl.

 

“ _I forbid it._ ”

 

“... what?” You stop in place, your entire body going cold. This was not the direction you thought this conversation would go in.

 

“Frisk, he hurt you. What's stopping him from doing it again?” Her eyes bore into yours, daring you to speak out, to defy her.

 

“Mom, it's not that big of a deal, really.” You wave a hand at her, trying to wave off the situation, shoulders hunching up in defense. Sure, Sans had hurt you emotionally, but he'd made up for it, right? “It'll be nice to get out and have some fun–”

 

“ _No._ ” Her paws clasp onto your shoulders, gripping tightly, and you can't help but wince. “He won't hurt you again. _He won't._ I won't _allow_ it. You must do as I say, for your own safety.” There were tears in her eyes now, and she looked so _worried_.

 

“For... my own _safety_?” Your voice cracks, and you try to take a step back. You can't – you're held in place by your own mother, who wants to protect you from everyone and everything.

 

That wasn't how life worked.

 

She had no idea what sort of things you went through on a daily basis, just being the _Ambassador._ You never said anything, because you never wanted anyone to _worry._

 

“Mom. Let go of me.” You can feel an invisible wall settle between you two, her face trying to mask the pain she felt.

 

“No. I can't... I can't let anyone hurt you again. Not anymore. Go to your room. _Or else._ ” Your jaw dropped. You were an adult now, and she was still treating you like you were a _child_!

 

“Or else... _what_?” A defiant tone crept into your own voice, one that you had learned from Toriel herself. It had gotten you a lot of places, being the Ambassador, but now... _now,_ you just felt entirely hollow as you threw her words back at her. You were angry, and you couldn't control it.

 

She was rendered speechless for a moment, but her grip tightened, making you grunt in pain.

 

“I will not tell you again. _Go to your room_.”

 

Reaching up, you shove her paws off of you, shifting your feet back a few steps so she can't pin you again. Shock registers on her face, and she starts to speak again, but this time you interrupt her.

 

“You know, you go on and on about Sans hurting me... I don't recall _ANY_ of this other than _one incident_. You were the first monster who actually truly hurt me, and _I forgave you for that_. Other monsters hurt me, as well, and you know what? _I forgave them, too!_ Why can't you do the same for others? _Why can't you forgive!?_ ” You know you strike a nerve when her arms fall, and tears fall down her face as she turns away from you.

 

“... you know where the door is, my child.” Her voice sounds garbled, hollow. _Broken._

 

Why was it that you could inspire thousands, but constantly found the wrong words to say when around your own family and friends?

 

“I love you, mom. I hope you know that, despite me being angry right now.” You lift your hand and start to approach, but Toriel doesn't react to your words at all – ironically, talking did not seem to be the solution to this situation.

 

Hanging your head in defeat, you walk outside, letting the door shut behind you.

 

“I'm sorry, mom. I... have to follow my own heart this time.”

 

Knowing that this day, you realized you had to walk your own path... it filled you with determination.

 


	12. A Date to Remember...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, an atmosphere can make or break a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANOTHER CHAPTER SO SOON???
> 
> Yeah, I love you guys.

**Chapter 12 – A Date to Remember...?**

 

* FRISK, WHERE ARE YOU?

* Hey PUNK, where are you at???

 

You look at your phone and sigh, rolling your shoulders back with a satisfying pop before moving off to the side of the sidewalk to answer the grouped text messages from Papyrus and Undyne.

 

* Did you guys forget I had a date...?

 

* OH, RIGHT! Well, knock 'em dead, punk!

* UNDYNE. THAT'S TERRIBLE!

* It's a figure of speech, numbskull!

* OH. WELL, IT'S STILL TERRIBLE.

 

Luckily for you, the conversation ended there – you figured that they ended up calling each other, or were still hanging out, so there was no need to continue to text war back and forth with you involved in the middle.

 

By the time you make it to the restaurant, Sans is sitting at the reserved table held for both of you, and you can't help but stare from the doorway, a small smile tugging at your lips. He looked _nervous_ , and at the same time, tried _not_ to look nervous.

 

You knew better, having been around him for years. Anyone else would see a bored skeleton counting the dots on the ceiling, but you saw that with the minor twitching of his fingers, he was trying very hard not to show any sort of tenseness he had.

 

Nonetheless, you were late, and felt bad about it – but it couldn't be avoided. Tonight was a moment to breathe, relax, and have some well-deserved fun. You had picked this place because it was on the higher end of restaurants, a rather nice place that you figured Sans would like – someplace where you two wouldn't have to worry about things.

 

You walk past the greeter of the restaurant with a wave, walking to the chair and sitting across from him with a smile. “Hi, Sans.”

 

“frisk. uh, h-hi.” Sans looked a lot more relieved than before, leaning back in his chair and slouching normally. “you're usually on time, kiddo. what's up?”

 

Your eyes fall, and you clasp your hands in your lap. “I... really don't want to talk about it.”

 

“you know you can tell me anything, right?” Sans' eyes slid to yours, and his fingers drummed on the table.

 

“I... had a fight with mom.” You stare at the candle in the middle of the table, watching the tiny flame flicker inside of the jar, not wanting to meet his eyes.

 

“oh.” His eyes drop, and the atmosphere feels awkward. You'd never had a real fight with Toriel before – sure, you might not have seen eye to eye on some things, but fights? They weren't even comprehensible between the two of you.

 

“Yeah.” Your head falls, and you reach up to slide the menu closer to you, wanting nothing more than to change the subject. “Have you looked at the menu yet?”

 

“i haven't had a chance to _ketchup_ on it,” Sans states, and you huff slightly, trying not to laugh, the mood lightened a little. “but aside from that, you look nice. a real _bonified..._ uh... frisk?”

 

“What?” You had been looking at the menu, trying to read the options and finding many of the fancy words escaping your attention, when you heard him say your name.

 

“i, uh... said you look _bonified._ are... are you sure you're okay?” He puts a hand on his cheek bone and leans on the table, his hand reaching forward to tap the back of your hand gently with his digits. “we can call it off, if you'd like–”

 

“No, that's okay,” You state, interrupting him. “I've been wanting to do this for a while now–”

 

“I WILL NOT EAT HERE WHEN THERE IS A DUST-EATER SITTING JUST TWO TABLES AWAY.” Your eyes widen as you're interrupted, and you glance to the side, seeing a tall, well-dressed woman flailing her arm, making a scene and pointing at you with a face that would make a demon cry.

 

More specifically, she was pointing at _Sans._ And what was worse... she had used that _slur_ that you absolutely _hated_. Why not call them what they were, monsters? Why did other people have to taint their name, dragging it in the mud so it came out worse than when it first started?

 

This was, by far, the worst slur of them all. Not only did it indicate something entirely untrue, but it also made them _look_ bad, painting a picture that was completely false. This was the kind of shit you had to deal with on a daily basis, and it made your head and heart _hurt_. Sometimes, there was no changing people, no matter how much you tried. And oh, _how you tried._

 

_This is why you hate humans more than monsters. They are vile creatures, and none of them deserve any Mercy._

 

Sans' eyes blinked out, leaving you to stare at his empty eye sockets in dismay. He went entirely cold, his hand withdrawing from you completely, hands sliding into his jacket pockets as he hunched over. It was obvious that he was uncomfortable with this, but there was nothing he could do in return, lest it be considered retaliation.

 

_You_ , on the other hand... had had enough. You were human, and the consequences were different for you. Right now, you didn't care. You slam your hand on the table, standing up. You feel bitter, something tugging at your soul and stirring within, making you feel darker, less benevolent.

 

“That. Is quite enough.” You drew attention to yourself, and you found that you no longer cared how many eyes were on you at this moment. You'd had a rough day so far, what was a little more attention? “They are called _monsters,_ not that atrocious word you use. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

 

Sans stared up at you with what you think is an awed expression, and you don't think he's ever seen this side of you before. Not unless he watched a bit of you on TV, but... you weren't entirely sure about that. Even so, you'd never felt this... _empowered_ before. You feel encouraged, and your fingers clench into fists.

 

“Either way you spin it, _honey_ , I don't want to sit in the vicinity of _that thing_.” The woman crosses her arms, staring you down. You can feel your fingers digging into the table, and in just a few seconds you can see the manager running to help you.

 

Good. Maybe he could do something about this woman who was creating a scene–

 

“I'm sorry, perhaps it's best if you leave.” The manager looked completely apologetic, and it took you a few moments to realize that he was talking to you.

 

_He wants **you** to leave._

 

_Maybe you should show him how much you disagree with that statement._

 

“I made a _reservation_ ,” You stutter out, snapping to yourself when you feel Sans' cool fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling your arm down. You hadn't even realized you raised it.

 

He tugs you away from the table, leading the way out of the restaurant.

 

“we're not wanted here, kiddo. it's best to just do what they ask.” He sounded so resigned as he said it, and you were too stunned to answer, too stunned at your own actions... so you walked behind him in silence. You glance back and see that the whole restaurant was hushed, eating their dinner in a muted manner.

 

They were also ignoring the woman... but none of them had spoken up for you.  _Not one._

 

Baby steps. They weren't large enough, and you couldn't help but feel like you'd failed. Again. Like countless times before.

 

How long did this unneeded segregation have to last? It was a blatant division that didn't need to exist in the first place. You'd proven time and time again that the monsters were harmless, but...

 

“frisk.” Your attention snaps to Sans, and he is still holding your hand, keeping your attention. He waits for a moment, making sure he has your full attention before he speaks again. “grillbys?”

 

“... yeah. Grillby's sounds lovely.” You're shaking now, and you force a smile even though tears are running down your face. Why did everything feel so _wrong_ , all of a sudden?

 

*****

 

The scene is familiar as you're sitting at the booth in front of the flame monster, his expression lackluster, as always.

 

“... what happened?” Grillby asks, actually putting down the glass he was cleaning to give you his full attention. He looks like he wants to reach out and wipe away your tears, but you figure that he doesn't, simply because he's made of fire.

 

“I'm failing in my job.” You admit, crossing your arms and putting your head in your arms, letting your forehead hit the table with a soft _thunk._

 

“i was called a derogatory term,” Sans states, giving a shrug. “the usual. no big deal, right?” He opens an eye to stare at Grillby with an amused, sweeping expression, freezing in place. “uh, grillby... you're burning the ceiling.”

 

“... yes.” Grillby states, an audible sigh heard from him. “This does not make you angry?”

 

“well, frisk kind of nearly flipped a table on the lady, so... i had to get 'em out of there.”

 

“Why can't I fix everything?” You bemoan, gritting your teeth. “Why is it that no matter how hard I try, or what I do, nothing is ever _right_?”

 

“... you are not meant to do more than you can do, Frisk.” Grillby reaches forward and tilts your head up, his glasses sliding down a minuscule amount. His touch is strangely cool, and you feel awkward for thinking up a reason earlier – hadn't you hugged his kids before? It never even crossed your mind, considering his children _looked_ less potent than he did. Now, you just felt silly for even thinking a thought like that. Grillby would never hurt you, and you knew that.

 

“You know that you are always welcome here.”

 

“... thanks, Grillby. That... that really means a lot.” You breathe in, shaking. “It's pretty sad when your adoptive family accepts you more than your own race, huh?” You reach up as you sniffle, wiping away your tears with a trembling hand.

 

“hey, grillby, can we get a couple of chicken baskets and about three burgers? something tells me that frisk hasn't eaten all day, and is rather _hangry_ at the moment.”

 

“... of course, Sans.” Inclining his head, Grillby sauntered into the back to begin preparing their food.

 

“Thank you, Sans.” You turn to look at him, your gaze sincere. “I... don't know what I would have done if I'd have stayed. Probably something bad...”

 

“yeah, kiddo. you need a breather.” He clasps your shoulder gently, staring into your eyes as if he was... looking for something? “i've never seen you act like that before. you looked like you were about to... hurt someone real bad back there.”

 

“I don't know. I just... feel like... I _don't know_.” You were at a loss for words, sitting up straight for a moment before slouching in your chair. You didn't feel like being proper at that moment. “Everything's so confusing right now, and... I don't know?” You kept repeating yourself, and you became frustrated, throwing up your hands. “I keep saying I don't know, but I really don't know. It's frustrating to me, that I can't find the right words to say when I'm with my friends, but when it's giving speeches or some crap, I can be right on the ball on _that_.” You take a breath.

 

“Heaven forbid people actually _like_ the monsters, you know? I try so hard and it doesn't get me anywhere, people still treat you guys like dirt and I pretend not to see it because it makes everyone down when I'm sad, and trying my best. But it's getting me _nowhere_ , Sans.” Your breath hitches, and you swallow, continuing on. It was like a cascading waterfall – it couldn't be stopped, now that you'd started speaking.

 

“I feel like I could do better if I just reset, but I don't _want_ to reset, Sans. I don't _want_ to go back through all that after growing up this far. Things would turn out different, because now I _remember_ , and... and I'm just... so _angry_.”

 

You stop, staring at your hands, the tears falling again as you shake.

 

“I don't want to _not_ remember.” You choke back a sob, and feel Sans press into you, arms sliding around you as he hugs you close, not saying a word.

 

What more was there _to_ say?

 

“if it's any consolation, i think you're doing great, kiddo.”

 

“How can you say that, Sans? I fucked up pretty big, monsters are _dead_ because _I couldn't do enough to save them._ I shouldn't even be Ambassador–”

 

A skeleton-like hand covers your mouth, and your eyes widen as you stare at Sans' cold, blue eye.

 

“ **Buddy**.” His gaze is cold, and deathly. “A _lot more_ would be dead if you _weren't_ the Ambassador.” The hand slides away, and a chill runs down your spine at how serious he was in that moment, but in the blink of an eye, it dissipates, the skeleton's pupils returning to normal. “so... don't be too hard on yourself. okay?”

 

“... o-okay.” Taking a few breaths to calm yourself, you turn to glance to the kitchen as Grillby is bringing out a large tray of food, and just smelling it sends your stomach into growling mode. You had forgotten how hungry you actually were, so focused on being a failure to actually acknowledge it.

 

“sounds like your stomach has a _bone_ to pick with you.” Sans states with a wink, grabbing the ketchup bottle and dousing his burger with it as soon as Grillby sets the plate down. Grillby gives him a look before sighing, taking his tray and retreating to the kitchen.

 

“i keep his ketchup supply in demand,” Sans states, and you have to turn away to laugh, snorting rather ungraciously. By the time you look back at the skeleton, he already has half of his burger eaten. You had never quite figured out how he managed to do that, but he always seemed to manage it whenever you were looking away.

 

Feeling quite famished yourself, you lean forward and snag a basket of the chicken strips, biting into one and regretting it – it was hot and you ended up spitting it out, not wanting to burn your tongue.

 

“bird got your tongue?”

 

“Oh my god, Sans.”

 

“no need to cry over plucked feathers.”

 

“That's _terrible_ , Sans.”

 

“sorry, didn't mean to make things so _hawkward_.”

 

“Sans!” You're laughing and you can't help it, letting your emotions loose as you cry and laugh all at once, leaning on the counter for support. By the time you're done, you reach out to pick up the chicken strip again, smiling at its considerable coolness and popping it into your mouth. You make a slight moan, closing your eyes.

 

You open them a moment later to find Sans staring at you, his face a tint of blue with what equaled a skeleton blush. “Uh... Sans?” You shift and feel your bones pop, wincing and letting out a short gasp. Man, that felt _good_.

 

You noticed Sans get more and more uncomfortable.

 

“I'm... sorry.” You hunch down again and finish your chicken strips, grabbing the second basket and digging into those, as well. Sans doesn't seem to mind – he had dibs on two of the burgers, and you had no idea how ravenous you actually were when you realized you'd eaten half of the last burger, the two baskets of chicken strips left bare.

 

“it bugs me, but... i don't mind it so much if there's some warning. so, uh, i can brace myself, you know?” You give him a confused look, raising an eyebrow.

 

“...huh?” You didn't get it. Was he talking about... the way you cracked your joints and bones?

 

“ah, nevermind, kiddo. tell you when you're older.” He winks at you again, and you grimace, bristling.

 

“I _am_ older, Sans! That's not fair.” Well, two could play at that game. You lift your hand up and crack a couple of knuckles, making Sans shiver in his seat.

 

“c-c'mon kiddo, that's not fair, that's cheating,” He muttered, his face entirely bright blue now.

 

“Maybe, but so is a quip like that.” You feel so much better now, and leave the rest of your knuckles unpopped – for the moment – as you slide down from your seat and wave to Grillby. “... want to go for a walk? We can look at the stars.” You knew he loved looking at the stars, and tried to make a habit of it every year you came to visit.

 

You remembered the first time that Sans had seen the stars, when all of you came to the surface – it was a different sky than the monsters were used to, and Sans hadn't slept at all, wanting instead to watch the dazzling, luminous fiery points in the natural sky that the humans took for granted every day.

 

He never did take them for granted, and Stargazing was added to his list of 'things Sans likes to do'. You'd even helped him bring his telescope from Waterfall to the surface, which he used constantly.

 

Sans nodded to you and you excused yourself to the bathroom for a moment.

 

“... Sans.” The skeleton looked up and saw Grillby leaning on the counter, his expression grim.

 

“yeah, grillby? what's up?”

 

“... when are you going to ask Frisk out?” Grillby's gaze seemed to bore right into Sans, and the skeleton began to sweat.

 

“c'mon, grillby, you know i don't think of frisk like that–”

 

“... you and I both know very well that that statement isn't true in the slightest. Now. What do you plan to do about it?”

 

“... nothing.” Sans spread his hands out on the counter, letting out a shaky sigh. “frisk doesn't need to be seen with someone like me. it... wouldn't be good for the ambassador to be seen with a monster.” The skeleton was shaking his head, eyes weary.

 

“... and you would push them away just to protect them?” Grillby stated, staring at Sans with an expression that clearly stated that he didn't believe him for one moment.

 

“i don't think i could say no if i tried, grillby. believe me. but... ”

 

“There's always a 'but' with you, isn't there?” Grillby stood up straight, crossing his arms. “... let's hear it.”

 

“... but,” Sans continued, meeting Grillby's gaze this time, “i keep falling in love with them and it worries me because i feel like i'm just going to fuck everything up... for frisk _and_ their job as ambassador. it's... messing things up is what i'm the best at, anyway.”

 

“... you should trust Frisk's heart.” Grillby stated, moving to clear away the dirty plates. “Try not to overdo it this time, Sans.”

 

“haha, okay buddy. you got it – wait, _this_ time?” Sans whirls to stare at Grillby, who's already retreated into the kitchen. “h-hey, what do you mean, _this time!?_ grillby, what–”

 

“I'm back!” You state, walking over to Sans and putting on your best smile. “Did you miss me?”

 

“u-uh, yeah,” Sans states, rubbing the back of his neck. “l-let's go stargazing, yeah?”

 

“Jeez. I'm sorry, does my bone cracking really affect you that much?”

 

“y-you could say that, heh.” He seems to sober up slightly, reaching out to take your hand and squeeze it gently, leaving _you_ to blush this time.

 

“So... stargazing?” You inquire, trying to clear your throat.

 

“stargazing,” He replies, tugging you out the door and turning to you, an amused expression on his face. “i'm going to teleport now, fair warning.”

 

“Wait.” You lean forward and smile. “Something I've always wanted to do.” You close the distance between you two, pressing your lips to Sans' cheek, making his whole face cobalt with embarrassment.

 

“f-f-frisk–”

 

“For a lovely date that's not quite over yet. Thank you.”

 

“s-sure, buddy,” Sans stutters, and squeezing your hand again, you're left feeling with the topsy-turvy feeling of vertigo and smell of algae-tainted water.

 

This time, you tasted liquid iron, the sense of it familiar – _blood_. Had you somehow bitten your lip...?

 

The feeling passes in mere moments, and you're left reeling on your feet on the grass, steadied by two bony hands bracing you on either side of your hips. Once you get your bearing, you're staring up at the sky, seeing stars above you in countless numbers.

 

Your breath is taken away.

 

After a few moments, you lie on the ground, fingers entwining with Sans' as you both stare at the sky, no words needed for the moment. You were both content with watching the stars, hands clasped tightly, neither of you wanting to let the other go.

 

“Sans?” You query, letting your breath out.

 

“yeah, frisk?”

 

“Let's do this again sometime.” You reach up with your free hand, mimicking catching a star, clasping it in a fist in a playful gesture. You can feel Sans watching you, and a few minutes pass where you forget your question, lost in the cosmos.

 

“... yeah.” Sans' voice is full of warmth, his fingers squeezing yours. “let's do this again sometime, kiddo.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is what made me change it to explicit because of the content in it that might bring up some bad feelings for some people. I wanted to fully capture what kind of main issues Frisk has to deal with on a daily basis as Ambassador, and I didn't want to sugar coat it.
> 
> Next chapter will be a nicer chapter before a storm REALLY hits.


	13. A Moment to Breathe...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little heated before winding down... and Frisk gets a moment to breathe and relax. At least, for the moment...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm one of the minorities that actually loves Asgore (a little more than Toriel, actually) - so you get a lot of Asgore love in this chapter and the next, because Dadgoat is best goat. Enjoy!

**Chapter 13 – A Moment to Breathe…**

 

 

On the way home, you two become rather soaked at the sudden downpour, Sans lending you his furred hoodie while he just wore his turtleneck sweater. You're still chilled through your skin and bones, but you find yourself comforted by the small act of kindness.

 

He held your hand the whole way home, as if he was afraid you'd disappear. You'd catch him looking at you, eyes darting away every time you looked at him, as if he was afraid of you catching him in the act of staring.

 

Your phone buzzes, and you stop under an awning to look at it.

 

* Come to my house when you're done with your date.

 

Your heart feels like it's in your throat. It was from Asgore – your _dad_. Did he feel the same way that Toriel felt?

 

Your phone buzzes again.

 

* Sans too.

 

_Shit._ You grimace and show Sans the phone, trying not to panic. His expression doesn't waver, but his eyes roll up as he breathes in sharply.

 

“kiddo, just... just what did you and tori _fight_ about?” Sans' hand squeezes yours again, pulling you close, against his body as he stares into your eyes. You avert your gaze, frowning and falling silent as your head rests against his collarbone.

 

“frisk... you have to tell me at some point. tori's already mad at me, and i need to know what to expect.” He reaches up and tilts your face towards his, his grip firm.

 

“She... didn't want me to go out with you.” You're shaking as you relay the story. “Because you hurt me. So I told her that she was the one who hurt me first, and that I forgave you, despite you making me cry.” You pull away, shaking your head. “I don't want to talk about this anymore.”

 

“frisk.” His grip tightens on your wrist, pulling you close again, cobalt eyes boring into your own. “i... _did_ hurt you, though.”

 

“Sans, you made me cry. That's it, and I'm already over it.” His expression looks pained, making _you_ feel confused.

 

“you mean, you... don't remember?” Sans' breath is shaky now, and he's sweating.

 

“Remember... _what_ , Sans?” Using your free hand, you press it to your chest, wincing. You'd forgotten you were injured there. “I was kind of... having an out of body experience, if you recall.”

 

“shit.” Sans tugs you close, hugging you tightly, his whole body shaking along with yours. “shit, kiddo. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry.” He's crying now, and you reach out to wipe the tears from his eye sockets, startled.

 

“Sans...?” You'd never seen him like this before... not since you had helped break the barrier. Back then, he'd cried as well, staring at the sky – but you had never called out to him. You had never been determined enough to step forward and comfort him. Not then.

 

But now, you had enough determination for the  _both_ of you. You cling to him, hugging him tightly and giving him as much comfort as you could, letting him cling to you in return.

 

“buddy, i was so close to killing you... chara had controlled your body, and i thought... i thought... i nearly _killed_ you, frisk...”

 

“Oh.” Was all you could say, not loosening your grip. “I'm... I'm here now, right?” Sans still clings to you, and you reach down to tilt _his_ head up now. “Hey. Sans, look at me.” The skeleton does so, his eyes devoid of any light.

 

“I'm here now. Okay?” You press both hands to his cheeks. “I'm _here_. I'm _right here_. And I'm not going _anywhere_.” You lean forward and press your lips to his teeth, making him cease in shaking. His hands slide up to your hair, fingers digging into your scalp as gently as possible, as if he was savoring the moment.

 

“f-frisk...”

 

“Hey, Sans.” You state, your fingers brushing the edge of his jacket, feeling the fur on his hood.

 

“hnn?” His gaze looks tired, but he lowers his hands, sliding them to your hips again.

 

“You know what this feels like?” You can't help but wiggle a little inside of his coat, reveling in the feeling of the softness inside.

 

“uh, fur...?” Sans tilts his head, eyes brightening slightly as he tries to assess the situation.

 

“Nah, it feels like _boyfriend material._ ” You can't help but grin, and his shocked expression is worth it, especially when he doubles over laughing after a moment's silence. “Eh? Did I actually get a pun over you?”

 

“heh, yeah, you did good, kiddo.” He winks at you. “but you're going to have to step up your game now that i know what you're capable of.” You shake your head as you snort, throwing up your hands.

 

“C'mon, Sans, you have to throw me a _bone_ every once in a while.”

 

“give or take a few. heh.” He stares up at you again, his grin growing wider. “are you trying _tibia_ telling me... that you want to go to the _bone zone_?”

 

“Ohmygod Sans I don't think...” You _know_ you're completely red now because you can feel your face become _hot,_ and looking at Sans only sends him doubling over in laughter.

 

“... that was mean, even for you.” You reach up to brush a lock of hair out of your face, forgetting that your hair was short, so it was a moot gesture. “I don't even know how monster anatomy _works_. You're all so different.”

 

“and you think i know how _human_ anatomy works? frisk, buddy... i just don't think we're compatible.” The moment the words slipped out, Sans _knew_ he'd fucked up. He tenses, glancing to you as your face grows cold, a stony expression settling there.

 

“... Fine.” Was your statement, and you walked away from him, intent on heading to your dad's house. Your good mood was gone in an instant.

 

“frisk, wait, i didn't mean it like that – _fuck_ ,” The skeleton runs forward, not used to any exercise whatsoever, grabbing your hand. He's covered in sweat. You attempt to yank it back, but his grip is tight. “frisk, look–”

 

“No, Sans. _You_ look. Do you know how long I've had a crush on you for? A long fucking time, okay? I was twelve when I fell into the Underground. _Twelve._ I had no family until Toriel came along, and then who do I meet after the Ruins? You.” Your eyes are cold as they stare at him, unrelenting.

 

“I met _you,_ Sans. And then I met your awesome brother. And then I _dated_ your awesome brother. Of course, it ended because he didn't like me the same way, so I ended up falling for you and your stupid _puns_.” You hated to admit it, but you loved those stupid puns. Some days, they were the only uplifting thing for the entire day.

 

“frisk. you're a human, and... i'm... well, i'm a _monster_.” Sans shrugs, spreading his hands out. “you can find so much _better_ than me, you know? haven't... you dated your own kind before?”

 

“... yeah.” You feel so _angry._ You've never felt rage like this before, and you felt like your heart was being ripped in two. “I have, on occasion.” The people you had dated had never really been... what you were _looking_ for. You'd never actually slept with anyone, and most had always wanted the fame and fortune that came with dating you over any actual relationship you might have had with anyone. Most of them just wanted bragging rights.

 

_You should tell him how you_ really  _feel. Don't you deserve the_ best _?_

 

“then...” Sans starts, but you slice through the air with your hand, causing him to halt.

 

“You know what?” You decide to take that advice, taking a breath. “You're right. Why should I settle for second best, when Papyrus took me out on a better date than you ever did?” You know that you've said the wrong thing, but you're just too angry to care.

 

_Feed the fire. Watch it burn._

 

“that's low. even for you, frisk.” Sans' gaze looks haunted now as he stares at you, his eye sockets completely blacking out.

 

_He doesn't deserve your Mercy._

 

“You don't deserve Mercy.” Your anger is spiraling now, and you feel lightheaded, dizzy.

 

“ **F r i s k.”** You're grabbed by both hands, shaken and left panting, your eyes shutting.

 

“ _I wish you'd just die. Crawl in a hole and never leave.”_

 

“ _ **FRISK.”**_

 

“ _I should have finished the job, all those years ago...”_

 

“ **That's e n o u g h.”** You can't concentrate, and you're left reeling, dizzy, the smell of blood, salt, water, algae... all of it filling your senses before your entire vision goes black, leaving you floating in a void.

 

_It's all your fault._

 

You're floating, staring at your hands, covered with dust. The dust is all the way up to your elbows, and you hold your arms away from you, feeling sad and tainted. You try to rub off the dust, but it only smears on your arms, making it worse.

 

_ You  _ wanted  _ this. _

 

Your fingers curl against your palms as tears run down your face, doubling over.

 

_You got bored, remember?_

 

“No...” You cry out, choking back a sob, trying to keep it together. You wouldn't have killed anyone... you _loved_ the family you had. They were always there for you.

 

_ You got bored so you left  _ me  _ in control. _

 

“No, I didn't!” Trying to curl up more proved useless – there was not much you could do in the void as you floated, and the feeling of the dust against your skin wouldn't go away. It made your body feel like insects were crawling underneath of your skin, leaving you feeling vile and contaminated. Infected. Poisoned.

 

_Ah... you're right. I got tired of your determination in this particular set of timelines, so... I took control. And I'm taking control again... how long until they turn on you, Frisk? How long until you break, leaving me the one in charge?_

 

_How long will it take you to succumb to my will?_

 

“NEVER!” You scream, pain shooting through your entire body as you throw your limbs out, jerking upright and meeting force. You wince and let out a smaller cry as your chest heaves, trailing off into sobs that you can't control. Shakily, you press your hand to your chest where the object collided, breathing hard.

 

_I'm still here. And I'll still be waiting._

 

The voices made sense now, and you wanted them to  _ stop _ .

 

_ They won't stop. Not ever. You're stuck with me until the end of time. Or, at least... until you  **reset** . _

 

“NO!” You're hysterical now, trying to get up, to _move_ , just barely registering that a skeleton arm was holding you in place.

 

“ **ENOUGH.”** A booming voice shouts out, and you instantly still, your gaze wary as it turns to look at the direction it came from. In the doorway stood Asgore, his frame large and monstrous, despite the... fluffy pink flowery shirt that he wore with too-short shorts.

 

His attire didn't make his demeanor any less frightening.

 

The voice in your head slithers and wriggles away like a scared puppy, and you feel relief as you calm, your body sagging against Sans' arms as your sobs overwhelm you.

 

“another nightmare?” Sans asks you, and you nod in reply, sniffling and trying to hold it together.

 

“I'm... I'm... uh... snf... s-sorry, S-s-sans...”

 

“i know you didn't mean it, kiddo.” He says, but from his expression and slight look of disbelief... you'd wounded him pretty bad with your petty words. You wished you could take it all back.

 

You could never take back what you said. You had the option, but it wouldn't matter – not with Sans. It wouldn't  _ ever  _ matter with Sans. The damage was done, and the damage had been permanent. The best thing would be to work through it... if things were at all salvageable.

 

You cling to Sans' arms, not wanting him to leave as you look up at your father, still shaking.

 

“... your house?” You ask, and he nods.

 

“You made Tori... kind of upset. She told me about it, face to face.” Asgore scratched his cheek, a bit embarrassed. “She, uh... wasn't too happy with you, so I told her you could stay with me for the winter. She then, uh... threw your stuff at me and told me to get out.”

 

Sans turned to Asgore, tilting his head in curiosity, but said nothing. You would have to deal with that whole situation later... and you knew you had a whole lot of apologizing to do.

 

But first, you had to start with Sans. You reach out for him, and he allows you to pull him into a hug, listening to your whispered apologies as tears fall on his sweater.

 

“Do you want to take a shower?” Asgore asks, looking so very, very sad. “I can make us some dinner.”

 

“W-what time is it?” You ask, realizing that you'd been sitting in damp clothing for a while. No wonder you were so cold.

 

“You've been here a few hours,” The large monster responded, clenching his hands together as if he didn't know what to do with them. This was the first time you were actually staying with him, and he seemed like he was at a loss for what to do. “You have some clothes you can change into in your suitcase, I put it at the end of your bed.” He finally moves towards you, pulling both you and Sans into a hug.

 

“D-dad?” You're confused for a moment. “Didn't... you want to talk to... uh...?”

 

“we already did.” Sans states, patting Asgore's shoulder gently as the large monster left the room.

 

“Yes! So... I'll start dinner for you two,” Asgore stated with fervor as he left the room, intending to make a good, hot meal.

 

“O-oh. T-thanks, dad.” You shiver again, and Sans pulls away. You can't help but make a sound of protest.

 

“you need to shower, frisk.” The skeleton states, raising a ridge above his eye.

 

“Sans. I'm... _really_ sorry. Please...”

 

“i'm sorry too, kiddo. i... didn't mean to say the things i did.” He lets out a long sigh and reaches forward, taking your hand gently and patting it. “i just... feel like you could do so much better, you know?”

 

“No, I don't know.” You crawl forward, still shivering. You needed that hot shower badly, but you so desperately needed to explain yourself more. “Sans, I told you a few days ago that I didn't really feel like I was _human_ anymore. I'm... trying to fight for you guys, but I don't – I can't – I... I'm trying to relate to everyone, but lately I'm just finding it too hard to actually care or try anymore.”

 

“kiddo...”

 

“Please, hear me out.” You wait until he nods before continuing. “I didn't mean what I said about Papyrus. It... was never really serious between us two. We talked about it recently and... he found someone else, you know? And I'm really happy for him.” You take a breath, making sure Sans still remained silent before you continued.

 

“I've _tried_ dating other guys. Really. But... most of them just wanted the fame from dating the Ambassador.” Sans' eyes darken, and you press forward. “Humans aren't very nice, Sans. A lot of them are vile, corrupt, and are in it for themselves, without caring for others.” Your hands reach out and slide around his, squeezing them gently.

 

The bones felt different than a normal skeleton model's would, but you had never really thought of Sans as a bare bones skeleton. For one, there was no way that a skeleton would be able to walk without some sort of skin or muscle tissue, so you figured that there had to be a bit more to the skeletons than just...  _ bones _ . You had no idea what to expect, however, as you'd never seen Sans  _ or  _ Papyrus without clothing on.

 

The thought of the skeletons without clothing makes your face hot again, but you press forward, determined to let Sans know how you really feel.

 

“Papyrus found someone, but... I want _my_ someone to actually realize that he's _wanted_. But he's such a _bonehead_ that it takes a lot of yelling and wrong words to try to get it through his thick _skull_. So _yes,_ I would _love_ to date a skeleton. Especially one that makes me happy when he doesn't even realize it.”

 

Sans is the one shaking now, reaching up with trembling hands to press against either side of your face, tears leaking out of his eye sockets.

 

“y-you really mean that?”

 

“Yes, Sans. I mean that with every fiber of my being.” You smile and lean forward to kiss him, and feel relieved when he 'kisses' you back, arms wrapping around your neck and holding you two close for a long moment.

 

“i... _snow_ hate to break the moment, but you really need to shower, kiddo. you feel a bit _chilled_ to the _bone_.”

 

“A-ah, yeah...” You sigh and withdraw rather reluctantly from Sans as you stand up from the bed, hesitating for a moment, though you smile at the puns. “Uh... would you mind turning around? I'm...” You find a towel near you bed and grab it, suddenly nervous about showing that much skin around the skeleton. You weren't even sure if you and Sans were _official_ yet.

 

It would definitely be something you would ask him about later.

 

“o-oh, y-y-yeah,” Sans stutters, turning around. By the view and blue tint to his cheeks, you smile at his blush, folding out the towel and shimmying out of your clothes with ease. They made a sickening plop that you grimace at, and you're finally free of the wet clothing as you wrap the towel around yourself.

 

“I won't be long, okay? You can... look now.” Sans took a moment longer until he turned around, giving you a thumbs up.

 

“you should take a long shower. use up as much hot water as you need to, love.” His blush increases, and you feel your own face grow warm at the name he used. “i-i, uh... m-mean, sweetheart. _er,_ buddy, pal, uh...”

 

You found it endearing that he was stuttering so much after letting a few words slip, so you walk over with a chuckle and kiss his forehead. Sans stops talking entirely, his eye sockets black as his whole body just relaxes, sinking into itself.

 

“Okay. I'll take a long shower, then. See you soon.” You trail a finger down his arm and over his palm before you leave the room, glad to have a moment to breathe. Things were finally looking up for you.

 

Sans sat on your bed with a long sigh, moving to hold his head in his hands, looking completely torn. On one hand, he was more than happy to pursue a relationship with you. Perhaps this timeline... would be permanent. He hoped it might be.

 

On the other hand... there was  _ Chara _ , and Sans had  _ no  _ idea what they had planned this time. This timeline was new, and all moves and strategies were up in the air, with no solid course of action to follow. Sans had no idea what to expect in this game of wit and cunning.

 

“what am i gonna do...”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any questions, plot things or guesses you want to throw my way, you are MORE than welcome to contact me! My AIM is Raine Eternal, and my Skype is eternal-raine.
> 
> I love new people, so please, don't be shy! If I don't respond right away, I tend to idle a lot. Writing, and all that, you know. :3
> 
>  
> 
> ~~I'm so _bonely_ so any hellos would be loved~~


	14. ... before all hell breaks loose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few more touching moments before the storm hits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH for all the comments! And a huge thank you for my beta reader, Snailsnack for making sure everything flowed smoothly and other ideas aaaaa you are so precious ❤

**Chapter 14 – … before all hell breaks loose**

 

 

You feel satisfied as you step into the shower, your skin growing warm as the water caresses your skin. You lean against the wall and tilt your head up, mouth open as you breathe freely with the liquid running off of your face.

 

The voice was gone... for now. But you still dwell on it, wondering just what Chara has in store for you.

 

They remain strangely quiet, and it unnerves you greatly... especially considering that Chara was possibly going to fight for dominance over your body.

 

You release a heavy sigh as you let the water sink into your skin, hands pressed against the wall for a long moment, reveling in the heat. Thinking over how the day had gone, you realize that you created a scene where there didn't need to be one, despite someone else starting it... and you'd nearly attacked Sans.

 

Just like you attacked him in the dream.

 

The memory pains you, and you shake your head, trying to shove away the thoughts of how the knife slid so easily into his ribs, how _blood_ poured from his wound, how he called out, asking what Papyrus wanted from Grillby's...

 

You shut off the water abruptly, biting your lip hard enough to make it bleed. You wince when you realize what you've done, stepping out of the shower and toweling yourself off, making sure to rub the towel over your short hair. It dried quicker that way.

 

Wrapping the towel around your body, you stride out of the bathroom, feeling fresh and clean for the first time in days. You see your clothes lying in a heap where you left them, but... you were strangely missing your underwear.

 

You squint at the skeleton on your bed.

 

“ _Sans_... do you know where my underwear is? They're not here...” You glance around for a moment before you flail around in your towel, trying to hold it on while ducking under the bed, and then tearing the covers _off_ of the bed. You can _swear_ they were next to your clothes just a few moments ago, but you can't find them now, despite having searched the entire room for about ten minutes now.

 

“that sounds like a _brief_ problem, kiddo.” Sans chuckles as he just sits on your bed, and you feel your face get warm from embarrassment, groaning in reply.

 

“Saaaans, oh my god! Dad's _waiting_ for us downstairs!”

 

“i... haven't seen 'em.” Sans shrugs, holding both hands up. “what are you doing under there?”

 

You're standing up, and give him a confused look. Why would he ask that when you'd already looked under the bed? “Under where?”

 

Sans just grins, and you suddenly understand it, giving another groan. “ _Sans._ ”

 

“i can't help it. i'm a comic.”

 

“I love it and hate it at the same time.” You stride over and kiss him on the teeth again, making him blush. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer, fingers sliding down your arms and making the towel slide a small bit.

 

You both freeze, and you step back to adjust and hold the towel tighter against you, clearing your throat. “I'd, uh... better get dressed.”

 

“y-yeah.” Sans fidgets with his fingers, his face almost entirely blue at this point. “you, uh... might also want these.” He's holding the underwear you had been looking for up on a single digit, glancing away from you, his entire skull now a shade of cobalt. They were your regular black panties, but the fact that he'd had them in the _first_ place made you flustered.

 

“You _rat_ ,” You cry, snatching them from his fingers and making sure he stayed put while you dressed. Sans didn't turn around at all, hunched over and letting you do your thing.

 

Kicking your sodding wet clothes out of the way, you dig into your suitcase and pick out an old outfit that was nothing but comfort – a long grey tee shirt with black slacks, and a black vest that already made you feel warmer just from the padding.

 

Once you're dressed, you walk over and reach out to caress Sans' head gently to let him know you're done, earning a slight moan from him. Startled, you jerk your hand up and _stare_ at him, and he shivers.

 

“u-uh, t-that... felt nice,” Sans breathes out, eyes darting back and forth until you reach out to pat him again, making him relax even further. His breathing slows considerably and you find yourself intrigued, wondering how this same gesture you used on the dogs in Snowdin is so effective on him, as well. Had skeletons always been this sensitive to touch?

 

“Okay... but... dad's still making dinner.” You aren't sure what to make of this slight revelation, but you lean over him and pet him a few more times, your fingers sliding over the smoothness of his skull, finding only minor knots and knurls in various places. Honestly, you just wanted an excuse to touch him.

 

Dad was waiting, though, and you didn't want to take more time than was necessary. Before walking out the door, you throw a smile over your shoulder at the skeleton. Sans is staring at the wall, breath hitching as his fingers curl and uncurl.

 

“... meet you downstairs?” You ask, inclining your head just slightly. You hoped you didn't overstep your boundaries, or do anything that was offensive, but... he had genuinely seemed to enjoy it.

 

“y-yeah, kiddo.” He finally answers you and turns to look at you now, giving you a lazy thumbs up. Relieved, you nod in return and turn to walk down the stairs, taking your time to actually glance around the house.

 

You'd never really stayed over your dad's house enough to appreciate the work that went into it – there were pictures on the wall above the railing for the stairs you were currently walking down, full of various people, but most of them were of _you_. Asgore had been so proud of you when you spared them all, and when you had agreed to be Ambassador, you wanted Toriel to be your mother, and... Asgore just sort of _fit the mold_.

 

You had never been happier.

 

Part of you wished that you could fix Asgore and Toriel's relationship somehow, but you knew, deep down, that there was no one that could help them but themselves. It wasn't a good idea for a third party to try to 'fix' a relationship, even if things would seem like they'd be better in the long run.

 

You trace your finger on the bottom of a frame, turning the corner down the hallway and seeing more photos of various monsters, as well as some of your paintings mixed among them. One canvas showed a picture of Asgore in his regal armor – you had painted that with acrylic paints, using the layering technique to make a style called impasto, making the painting seem like it was going to leap right off of the wall. Impasto had been an interesting art style, one that you particularly favored – you could mix mediums on the canvas _itself_ and create strokes without having to worry about 'messing up'. Everything on the piece of cloth itself was considered part of the painting, and there were really no 'mistakes'.

 

Of course, thanks to _Sans_ , you can't help but think of the word itself. Impasto. _What do you call a painting of fake spaghetti?_ Oh, lord, you needed help.

 

You reach forward and trace over the bumps and ridges with awe, and realize this was another favorite of yours. You'd given so many paintings away that you'd forgotten how much work you actually put into them, putting your heart and soul into each one.

 

You'd made them with love. You took the time to _show_ that into your work, and every stroke on that canvas made you realize just how much you loved your friends and family.

 

“That's one of my favorites, too.” The deep bass voice rumbles behind you, and you jump slightly, huffing. You turn to see Asgore standing behind you, his maw open with a happy smile. Large arms envelop you into a hug and you hug him back with a laugh, nuzzling into his chest.

 

“Don't scare me like that, dad.” You breathe, feeling warmer than you had in days.

 

“Sorry, Frisk. I just... I got a little emotional when I saw you admiring your own work.” He wipes the corner of his eyes and picks you up with little effort, setting you on his shoulder as you cry out in laughter.

 

“Upsee daisy!” You perch on his shoulder just like old times, remembering when you were twelve again and much shorter, toted around like a bird on Asgore's proud shoulder.

 

Asgore had built most of the houses for the monsters, finding an affinity for carpentry as well as gardening. He'd built this house for himself, making the roof much taller than a normal human's home, so you had no worry about hitting your head on anything with the added height.

 

“Are you going to cook with me up here?”

 

“Of course I am!” Asgore replied cheerily. “Who else would be great enough to make sure my cooking is spot on?” He reaches out with a hand and stirs the massive pot of soup he's making, using his other hand to flip over the grilled cheese sandwiches that were browning in the most perfect manner. You took a deep breath and reveled in the smell of the food, your mouth already watering. You haven't had Asgore's cooking in a long time, and found yourself actually missing it.

 

“Well, you could always call Papyrus...” You state with a grin, making him tense slightly, giving a nervous chuckle.

 

“U-uh, w-well... as great as Papyrus is, I don't think he has the right _koalafications_ for this particular meal.”

 

“you're _patellin'_ me.” Sans states from the doorway, arms crossed as he leans against the wall. Both of you turn, and at a glance you see Asgore _grin_ at the short skeleton, giving a small huff of laughter. You scrunch your face up at them both, letting out a small groan.

 

“You two are terrible. Those puns were _awful_.”

 

“Aww, there's no need _tibia_ so upset about it,” Sans replies with a wink to you, and Asgore just loses it. He doubles over while trying to stay upright, his chest heaving with laughter as he grabs the top of the stove, leaning against it heavily.

 

“H-hey!” You're sliding, and about to crash into the cooking food on the stovetop when you're lifted up into the air, floating for the most minute of moments, eyes widening as you shake. You turn to see Sans with his left hand extended, blue glowing around his fingers. It takes you a moment to realize that _he's_ shaking as well, and once your feet touch the ground he lets you go with his magic, shoving his hand back into his jacket pocket.

 

He was sweating, and did not look well.

 

Asgore didn't notice a thing.

 

You give a grateful look to Sans, who just looks away, eye sockets going dark. Asgore finally recovers and pats you on the back gently, looking apologetic.

 

“Sorry, Frisk. I'm glad you landed safely. Maybe it's best if I _don't_ cook with you on my shoulder, huh?” Your father gives you a wink and turns over more sandwiches, pointing to the cupboard. “Would you mind getting a few dishes?”

 

“Sure thing, dad.” You force a hesitant smile as you give one last look to Sans, trying to hide your worry, but you know it's evident in your eyes. Opening the cupboard and getting down three dishes and three bowls, you grab the silverware from the drawer under you and set the table, walking over to Sans.

 

“Are you okay?” He glances to you hesitantly, and you wonder why he's so shaken up. Things turned out okay, didn't they?

 

“kiddo... don't _scare_ me like that,” Sans breathes out, huffing and glancing to you with the tiniest points of lights in his eyes.

 

“It was an accident, Sans.” You continue speaking to him in a quiet voice, using the happy hum from Asgore as background noise to hold your conversation. “Thank you, by the way.”

 

“i'm _worried_ for you, frisk.”

 

“I'm _fine_ , Sans. My wounds will heal in a few weeks or two, at most.”

 

“that's not what i'm talking about, buddy.” Sans stares at you openly now, and you can't help but shiver. You know _exactly_ what he's talking about, and it's not a pleasant subject for you.

 

“Dinner's ready!” Asgore trilled, bringing the large soup pot to the table and setting it on the potholder in the middle, sorting out two sandwiches between the three of you.

 

“we'll talk later,” Sans muttered, moving to take his seat. You didn't reply – you knew that there was no avoiding it, even though you wanted nothing more. You hated talking about your problems, not wanting to inconvenience anyone – you much rather would have others put their problems onto you, so you could _try_ to solve them. After all, what better way to deal with your own problems than trying to fix others'?

 

… who were you kidding? You didn't even help yourself. Most of your problems you just kept inside until you were alone, bottling them up until you exploded. Which explained why you were so emotional lately.

 

Once all three of you are sitting, Asgore claps his hands together with a grin. “Well, enjoy! I hope you like it.” You can't help but smile at your father's warm demeanor, and take a sip of the soup, the smile spreading.

 

“It's very good. What kind of spices did you use?”

 

“Not many for the tomato soup, mostly a little dash of pepper, onion powder, garlic powder, a little cheese...” He was embarrassed now, scratching his cheek as he waves at you. “Aaa, Frisk, there's no need to go on about that. It's really nothing.”

 

“It's most excellent.”

 

“i agree. i love it from my head tomatoes.” Sans murmurs, giving you a wink as Asgore lets out a guffaw. You sigh and roll your head back, letting out a rather undignified snort. When you realize that you couldn't control your laughter, all _three_ of you are rolling in your seats, unable to breathe.

 

You finally get yourself under control and finish your sandwich, halfway done with your soup before your phone dings at you. Figuring it was either Papyrus or Undyne to ask how the date went, you take it off of the clip on your belt and open it up, paling when you see the attachment sent in a text message.

 

The message was from your PR Manager.

 

* What the HELL is this about!?

 

Next to the message was an icon of a paper clip, indicating that there was an attachment to view. You clicked on it, already feeling like this was something bad.

 

The picture attached was of a trashy gossip magazine cover, with you kissing Sans, underneath of the awning in front of Grillby's. The picture had been doctored a little, moving your hands into a crude and indecent position on the skeleton, implying a lot more than what had actually happened.

 

The words on the cover read: _**HOT AND HEAVY – THE AMBASSADOR'S SECRET ROMANCE? WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BONE A SKELETON! READ MORE INSIDE!**_

 

Your face is pale, knuckles white as they grip the phone with blind anger. You sit back in your chair, letting the phone drop to the table as you stare at the ceiling, not consciously aware when Sans picks up the phone and stares at it.

 

Static fills your mind as you fight to control your temper, letting out your breath when you feel familiar fingers encircle your wrists, holding up your hands. You force yourself to focus on the skeleton face in front of you, and he's sweating, worry evident in his eyes.

 

“kiddo, c'mon, stay with me.”

 

“We didn't do ANY of that.”

 

“i know, kiddo.” Sans' expression falters into anguish.

 

“I didn't think it would be this hard, finally getting to live on the surface,” Asgore murmured in a melancholy tone, spinning his spoon in the middle of the bowl in a heavy manner. He'd looked at your phone, a sad expression crossing his face as he slides it back over to you.

 

“I... didn't think that this would happen...” Your eyes slide to the side, staring off, unfocusing. “It was only a kiss.”

 

“i know, frisk.” Sans is speaking slower now, but his fingers are rubbing circles into the inside of your wrists, a gesture meant to calm you.

 

“I'm sorry,” You murmur softly, feeling thoroughly drained of all your energy and anger. Why did everything you do end up turning over on a bad end? “I... I don't even know why this was made...”

 

“Probably to make you look bad.” Asgore replies in a matter of fact tone, finishing his soup and dropping his bowl off in the sink filled with soapy water, shuffling over to the teapot. “Perhaps some tea is in order to help calm your nerves.”

 

“good idea, asgore. frisk looks like they have a few loose and frayed nerves to tie up.” Sans glanced to Asgore with a solemn expression, and got a nod from the former king. It didn't take long for the teapot to heat up, and a teacup with a familiar scent wafted up to greet you.

 

Sans let go of your wrists, allowing you to reach forward and grasp the teacup with shaking hands, and you can't stop enough to keep it from spilling over the edges. This was the worst possible thing that could happen. You were trying to keep a down low on being an actual Ambassador, and nothing had happened when you dated _humans_ , so why was _this time_ so damn different?

 

“frisk.” Gentle, skeletal fingers slid around yours, steadying your hands and remaining there, allowing you to take a long sip of the not-quite boiling hot tea. You can feel stinging tears leak out of your eyes, and you grit your teeth, trying not to let your sadness seep into your voice.

 

“How much worse can this get?”

 

Your phone buzzed again, and at first, you think it's a text message. It kept buzzing, the tone turning into a rather boring ring tone – it was a phone call from another Politician or Ambassador, most likely. Hadn't you told them you were unavailable, and going on vacation?

 

“Damn it all. Sans, can you put that on speaker phone? I don't think I can use the phone right now without breaking it,” You state with all honesty. Sans nods and lets go of you, swiping the screen and putting the caller on speaker, allowing them to be heard by everyone.

 

“FRISK!? ARE YOU THERE?”

 

“... why are you yelling, Percy?” Percy was a lawyer that you'd been friends with for a couple of years now, finding solace in his company. You two had dated once or twice, but never really _clicked_ as a couple, both agreeing that it would be more beneficial to be friends.

 

“I really hate to cut your vacation short, but there's been a major situation here.” There was noise in the background, and you stiffen, an eyebrow lifting.

 

“Is this about the doctored magazine they're printing with me and Sans on the cover?”

 

“What? No. Those assholes can go hang themselves for all I care. Listen. There's been a new outbreak, and people are going _crazy_ here.” There was a large crash of what sounded like glass breaking, and you could hear Percy's breath as he was running.

 

“Percy! Are you okay?” You lean forward and set your teacup roughly down on the counter, moving to lean closer to the phone.

 

“No! Yes! I mean, I'm fine for right now, but listen. _Listen_ , Frisk. People keep saying your name. Like, people who don't even _know_ you, that you've never met – I'm talking about homeless people on the street that don't even get to see you on TV.” He takes a breath, and you feel like you can _hear_ his heartbeat racing.

 

“What do you mean, they're asking for me?”

 

“They are, and they aren't. A lot of people are rambling on and on with your name mixed in it, and about some guy that speaks with his hands. It doesn't make a lot of sense, but the higher ups here are out for blood and they want you back here. They think it's a publicity stunt or some shit like that.”

 

“The guy who speaks with his hands?” The whole notion sounded confusing to you. “Are you talking about, like, sign language?” You hadn't used sign language in years, finding enough courage and determination years ago to use your own voice, but you still remembered some basics to get by.

 

“Yeah, but... well, more specifically, the phrase is _the man who speaks in hands._ It's–” Percy was about to say more, but the line suddenly cuts dead, the phone blinking with a _call ended_ message before your phone transitions to black.

 

Chara's ever-familiar voice inside your mind returns with a cackle that never ends, making your blood run cold.

 

_It's begun._

 


	15. Side Quest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before confronting the problem at hand, you decide to take a detour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapters keep getting longer aaaaa what do
> 
> Throwing another thank you out for my beta, Snailsnacks because they are totally awesome and NEED TO GET MORE SLEEP.
> 
> Also, a HUGE thank you to all of my awesome readers - without you I wouldn't have the determination and drive to continue this. Thank you!

**Chapter 15 – Side Quest**

 

 

For now, you ignore Chara. This was no time to entertain a demon who decided to make themselves a host of your body. You hear a chuckle reverberate through your body, resonating as if it was an echo, and it makes your spine curl.

 

Sans' expression is unreadable, and you've never seen him like that before.

 

“Sans?” You query, reaching out for his hand. He seems to jerk back to reality, glancing to you with a surprised expression.

 

“... you'd better get goin', kiddo.” He squeezes your hand gently, and you lean forward to kiss him again, making his eyes light up and a faint blush graze his cheeks.

 

“I'll see you soon, then. Hopefully I won't be long.” You stand up to walk to your room to pack, but you're held back by Sans' hand gripping yours tightly.

 

“i didn't say you'd be goin' alone, did i?”

 

“O-oh,” You state, slightly relieved as you glance to Asgore, who saunters over and envelops you both in a giant bear-like hug.

 

“Take care of each other. Okay? I hope you two can be back in time for Christmas. It... sounds pretty serious.” Your father nuzzles your face gently, and you can't help but cry in return, throwing your arms around the large goat monster with fervor, all too happy to have a father such as him. He had _always_ been kind to you, and there was nothing you could do in the world that would show him just how much that everything meant.

 

But you could try.

 

“Love you, dad. Try to take it easy on the dad jokes, okay?”

 

“No promises,” Asgore replies with a wink, tapping you on the nose. “Booplesnoot!” You're left gaping, face red with embarrassment.

 

“Dad!”

 

“Sorry, you just have the cutest nose. I couldn't resist!” You glance over to Sans and see that he's doubled over laughing, being of entirely _no_ help. You turn back to Asgore.

 

“I'm serious. Take it easy.”

 

“Hi, serious. I'm Dad.” You scrunch your face up and sigh.

 

“Some boyfriend you are,” You chide in jest as you glance to Sans, turning around and walking up the stairs, leaving him scrambling.

 

“w-wait, kiddo, when did we start dating!? did we agree to this already!?” Panic sets in his voice, and you can't help but feel that you've thrown a _bone_ into his plans – the mere thought of it sends you into giggles.

 

“Welcome to the family!” Came Asgore's booming voice, and from the hyperventilating sounds from Sans, you can only imagine that he was picked up by Asgore.

 

“no, no noogies! aah! heights and sans _do not mix_!” Yep, that confirmed it. Your father had totally one-upped Sans, and it made you grin widely.

 

Only your dad could manage to do that and still keep the upper hand.

 

You glance around your room with a sigh, deciding for the most part to leave everything here – you would take a small bag with you, not intending to stay on the so called _business trip_ for long. It was a good thing you packed your large carry on inside of your luggage, wanting a larger purse in case you went out shopping with Undyne again.

 

Filling it with the essentials such as your toothbrush, toothpaste, and some sets of clothing, you sling the bag over your shoulder and head back down the stairs, surprised to see that your father was already waiting for you, paws clasped together.

 

“You should really talk to your mother before you leave,” Asgore states softly, running claws through your short hair, his hand almost covering your entire head and shoulders. You grimace at the idea, and he sighs.

 

“You know that if you don't, it'll only make things worse.”

 

“Yeah...” You nod, shoulders slumping. “I'll go talk to her.” You weren't looking forward to this. You had hoped for a bit more time to cool down, but you know that the longer you avoid the issue, the more distraught your mother would actually get, and it would only spiral downwards from there.

 

Adjusting the strap on your bag again, you glance to Sans, and then back to Asgore. “Maybe... you two had better stay here for now. It'd be best if I talked to her alone, first.”

 

“are you sure?” Sans asks you, hands resting comfortably in his pockets.

 

“Yeah. Right now _both_ of you are in the doghouse for trying to kill the adorable human,” You state with a wink, making both of them sweat, looking sheepish.

 

“Right...” Asgore lamented, turning back to the kitchen. “I'll go make some more tea.”

 

*****

 

You found yourself seated at the dinner table again, surprised to find that Toriel had actually given her some of her famous butterscotch-cinnamon pie. You hadn't expected it so soon after your guys' fight, but you were more than happy to eat it, satisfied that she'd brewed some tea to accompany it, as well.

 

You still found dad's tea a bit better, but you'd never actually say _that_ to your mother's face. You'd _already_ caused enough drama, anyway.

 

“I wish I could protect you from the world,” Toriel murmurs, her paws wrapped around her own cup of tea. You were surprised to hear her speak so soon, and you nod to state that you heard her, your mouth full of pie.

 

You swallow and sip your tea, clearing your throat. “I'm sorry I was angry earlier.”

 

Toriel shifts in her chair, a drawn out silence falling between you two.

 

“... I am sorry, too.”

 

Both of you became quiet again, and you finish your pie and tea, standing up to put the plate in the sink. You pour yourself a second cup of the brew, sitting back down across from her and letting your fingers rest around the warmth of the mug.

 

It was awkward.

 

“Thank you... for the pie.” You finally state, fingers gripping around the mug in an embarrassed manner, taking another long drink.

 

“You are most welcome, my child.”

 

“Listen. I'm really sorry for saying the things I did, I was out of line–”

 

“You were right,” Toriel responds in a low tone. “I have no right to dictate your life. You're an adult now, by human standards.” She sips her own tea out of her mug, a somber expression on her face.

 

“But... you're still my _mom_.” You stare at her, feeling your soul drop down to the pit of your stomach. You had no idea your words, said in anger, would illicit such a response. You regretted ever saying them.

 

Toriel chuckled bitterly. “You could have had any family in the world, Frisk. Why didn't you choose to stay with your own kind?”

 

“Because I didn't _have_ anyone else. Because I chose _you_.” Standing up, you walk over to her and throw your arms around her, hugging her tightly. You didn't want to think about your many, many years as an orphan, bouncing from home to home, trying to find a place that you could call your own – a place that you fit in.

 

“I didn't _want_ anyone else. Despite everything, you still felt like _family_ , and there's no feeling in the world that can ever _replace_ that.”

 

She's crying now, shedding tears in silence, but you press on. “I _need_ you. I can't do this without you, and I appreciate any help you're willing to give, whether or not it helps me out in the long run. But... I need you to respect my opinion as well. I love listening to your advice, mom. I really do.” Your cheeks are hot and wet, and you press your face into her neck, fingers kneading into her fur.

 

“I have to follow my heart, you know? And sometimes my heart doesn't always agree with your advice. I hope you can respect that.”

 

“I don't want to see you hurt. I want the best out of you, Frisk. I want to see you succeed in everything you do.” Her voice hitches, and she reaches up to wipe a tear away, patting your hand gently. “Seeing Sans hurt you like that, with you on the ground... I _lost_ it. I've already lost two children... and I've grown so fond of you that it would _break_ me if I lost you, too.”

 

“I know.” You lean against the table, staring at her eye to eye, both of your faces red with tears. “I'm sorry. I'll try to visit more often. I know I haven't been the best kid, but... I'll try better from now on.”

 

“And I'll try to be there for you more often, too, my child.” She pulls you into a hug and sobs gently, claws digging into the folds of your clothing, but you find you don't mind the pain so much. It's bearable.

 

“I... would still like to stay at dad's, if you don't mind. He's been... really lonely lately.”

 

“Ah.” She murmurs, patting you on the back before letting go, giving a nod. “I... probably shouldn't keep you all to myself, anyway.” Toriel sniffles, stretching her jaw into a mock yawn. You can't help but smile, ruffling her fur behind an ear.

 

“I have to leave to take care of something. Ambassador stuff. Something important has come up.” Toriel looks worried, but shuts her mouth and nods instead, rising to pat your head affectionately before moving to the kitchen.

 

“Take care of yourself, okay?” Raising her hands, she makes the shape of a heart, unable to help the smile that covers her entire muzzle. You can feel your heart melt, returning the gesture with a smile of your own.

 

“I will, mom.” Your heart is soaring now, and you can't help but feel uplifted. “Can you promise me one more thing?”

 

“What is it, my child?” Her look is quizzical now, head tilting to the side as she waits for your request. Man, your mom was awesome.

 

“Can you give da–“ You pause, taking a deep breath. “Can you give Asgore... another chance? ...please?”

 

She looked so tired after that question, her composure equal parts distressed and exhausted, but she gives you a very minute nod. “I'll... try. For you, Frisk, I shall try.”

 

*****

 

You were mildly surprised to find that both Sans _and_ Papyrus had accompanied you to where you needed to go – you thought it would just be Sans, but you are more than happy to have Papyrus tag along as well.

 

Both of the brothers, together, were precious. You wouldn't trade them for the world.

 

Papyrus had never actually traveled with you before, and _loved_ taking the bus ride there – Sans had explained to you before how Papyrus didn't know about his teleportation, though he'd had a minor inkling, so he didn't want to risk anything bad happening with trying to use his powers on more than one person.

 

It was obvious that he loved Papyrus with all of his heart, as much that he could manage, anyway – and Papyrus felt the same about him. It was the perfect brother relationship, and you found yourself more often than not envying that particular contact with someone else.

 

Papyrus was sitting on the bus seat in a happy manner, Sans leaning against him snoring away, so you took it upon yourself to keep an eye out on both of them. The bus was mostly empty for the time of day it was, but you were still wary – with as many monster attacks that had happened lately, you couldn't be too careful.

 

Standing and holding onto the rail by the seat, you let out a large yawn and lean your head against the railing, feeling tired but still awake enough to be aware of your surroundings. You really wished you had some coffee, though.

 

There weren't very many other humans on the bus at this time of night, but there was a small flurry of monsters that were sitting, minding their own selves. As you glanced over them, you saw them recognize you and give you a small wave, and you inclined your head towards them in respect. Others merely glanced at you and either raised an eyebrow or gave you a scowl – you didn't blame them, for the way the other humans treated them. You also didn't expect every single monster to always treat you with the utmost respect – most of them were nice and friendly, but there were the few that wouldn't be no matter what you did.

 

_They should. Didn't you save them all? Shouldn't they call you their **hero**?_

 

You closed your eyes for a moment, sighing. You didn't do this for the recognition. You did it because it was the right thing to do – nothing else would change your opinion on that.

 

_Until you reset, that is._

 

“FRISK?” Papyrus' voice cuts through your thoughts, and you open your eyes to smile at him, feeling weary.

 

“Yeah?” Chara's voice dissipated as you fought to wake up further, suddenly craving coffee far more than before.

 

“ARE YOU ALRIGHT?” There was slight worry in the taller skeleton's voice, and you moved to sit next to him on the open seat, patting his arm gently.

 

“Yeah, Papyrus, I'm fine. Just a little worried about the current situation.” Besides Chara, you had the whole situation to deal with that Percy told you about, and you had no idea what to expect. He'd stated that most of the homeless were losing their minds, calling Frisk's name as well as stating to beware a man who spoke with his hands...

 

You rubbed your forehead, feeling like you should practice on your sign language. Something told you that you needed it.

 

“THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS HERE TO HELP!” Papyrus exclaimed, reaching out to give you what you think is going to be a noogie, but is instead turned into a gentle caress down the side of your face. His voice softens as he continues his train of thought. “We are here for moral support, should you need it.”

 

“When did you grow up so much, Papyrus?” You ask, your eyes feeling watery. He was still of an innocent mind, but he understood _so much more_ over the years that you can't help but wonder if he really knows more than he lets on.

 

“I HAVEN'T GROWN AN INCH TALLER SINCE I MET YOU, FRISK!” Laughing at his statement, you wave off the question with a hand, snorting. Well, that shot that theory.

 

“Nevermind. It was a useless question.” You lean against his arm now, relaxing. Sometimes Papyrus was aware of certain things, but you never really thought of him as anything _but_ innocent.

 

“NONE OF YOUR QUESTIONS ARE EVER USELESS, FRISK!” Papyrus pats you on the arm gently, giving you his rendition of a smile. You can't help but chuckle at his enthusiasm, stretching and popping your joints and bones as you splay out your limbs.

 

“I could really go for some coffee right now, though.” You felt your stomach grumble, and you exhaled slowly. “Maybe a bit of food, too.”

 

“SHALL WE FETCH SOME BEFORE WE ARRIVE?” Papyrus suggests, eyes brightening at you.

 

“That sounds like a splendid idea.” You lean over to glance at Sans. “Shall we wake–”

 

“is there going to be ketchup?” Sans asks blearily, glancing up from his comfortable position of leaning up against his brother.

 

“Nevermind,” You respond, rubbing your forehead with the bottom of your palm. “There might be ketchup, depending on where we're going. And don't you _dare_ try to improve my coffee with that stuff again.”

 

“aww, c'mon kiddo, it made it better. at least it wasn't as bitter.” You could swear his smile spread wider, making you mentally groan.

 

“No. Coffee is _supposed_ to be slightly bitter with the right amount of cream and sugar. You ruined a perfectly good batch of coffee, I'll have you know.”

 

“ _i_ liked it,” Sans pouts, shoving his hands further in his pockets.

 

“I didn't make it so _you_ could like it, I made it for myself.” You pout in return, crossing your arms.

 

Papyrus huffed between the two of you. “ARE YOU QUITE DONE WITH YOUR LOVER'S QUARREL YET? I VOTE FOR SPAGHETTI IF YOU ARE.” Both you and Sans sputter, looking away, your face red while Sans' is blue.

 

“GREAT! LET'S GO EAT,” The taller skeleton states with a flourish of his hand, picking Sans up like he weighs absolutely nothing, taking your hand to lead you.

 

You all traverse your way to the mall food court off of the bus, just a short distance away. You were glad it was such a short distance, simply for the fact that your stomach was rumbling again. Hadn't you just eaten pie with tea? You should have been fine, but instead, you felt famished.

 

Taking out your phone to send a quick text to Percy that you'd be a little later due to needing food, you look up to see the shorter skeleton staring at you.

 

Sans has a smug expression, hanging off of Papyrus' shoulder with ease. He wasn't complaining, and you puffed your cheeks out at him, muttering ' _lazybones_ '.

 

He just winks at you.

 

Smelling the familiar Chinese Noodle place you so loved, you walked over to it and ordered a large plate for yourself, watching as the two skeletons went over to a burger joint. Surprised, you watched as both Sans _and_ Papyrus ordered burgers and fries, an eyebrow rising in concern. It was rather strange to see Papyrus, of all monsters, ordering anything other than _spaghetti_ or anything similar to the pasta dish he so loved.

 

“Ah! Excuse me, dearie,” Came a soft voice as someone bumped into you, sending you back a few steps. You blink and turn your head to see a rather familiar purple lady with many arms, giving you an apologetic grin as she was bowing.

 

“Muffet?” You ask, stepping forward to glance over her, a smile tugging at your lips.

 

“... _Frisk_?” Muffet cried, popping up as she embraced you in a many-limbed hug, admiration and wonder oozing from her voice. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I was hungry, so I came with my skellies to get something to eat.” You jerk your thumb back at the skeleton brothers – a glance told you that they had found seats, happily eating their burgers and conversing among themselves. “What about yourself? I haven't seen you in _ages_! It's good to see you,” You can't help but gush, and mean it. Muffet, despite her rather unsavory business tactics, was one of your favorite monsters to dish out the local gossip. You also enjoyed her pet names for people, because she didn't take anything from anybody, giving respect only where it was earned.

 

“Ahh, I see! Well, I opened up a shop in the mall here, and what better way to get business than to hand out coupons for my bakery goods? Made of spiders, for spiders, and _with_ spiders,” Muffet sung with a wink, sticking out the tip of her tongue as she held out a coupon for you.

 

Taking it, you gave her an incredulous look. “... a coupon?” Muffet had _never_ handed out coupons before, and you can't help but wonder what was _really_ going on.

 

“... yes?” She looked nervous now, shifting from one spider-like leg to the other. “To... gain business? Humans love to save money, after all...”

 

“Muffet, you've... _never_ had a discount on your goods before.” Your eyes narrow, and you let your arms drop. “Is there something going on that I should know about?” And then, it clicked. “Wait. Muffet. Are you being bothered by other humans? Are your excellent goods not selling?” Despite the slightly tangy taste the spider goods had, you had actually found them rather savory and full of flavor.

 

“No, dearie, nothing... we spiders cannot handle.” There was a sheen in her eyes that set you on edge, and you gritted your teeth together.

 

“Muffet...” You warned, not wanting the spider monster to start something – either on purpose, or by accident.

 

“I'm sorry, dearie, I've been keeping you from your skellies for too long, haven't I?” She leans up and presses a kiss to your cheek. “Do stay in touch, I miss our chattering sessions. Ta ta, now.” She gives you a wave and saunters off with her hips shaking, leaving you skeptical about the whole encounter.

 

Just how much trouble were humans – _your own race –_ making for the monsters? And how Muffet responded... you didn't know _what_ to expect out of the spider, and you weren't exactly sure that you _wanted_ to know, either.

 

The way the humans were treating the monsters... was something you'd have to get to the bottom of – right after the issue that you had to deal with that Percy warned you about.

 

And _that_ was after you filled your grumbling stomach with food.

 

Moving over to sit across from the two skeletons, you were more than happy to have your food set in front of you, digging in with fervor.

 

“jeez, kiddo... hungry much?” Sans watches you like you're a feral wolf, and you merely glance at him, mouth full of food. He gives a little shiver.

 

“Frisk!” You sit up and turn as you hear Percy's voice, seeing a well dressed gentleman running up to join your table. He looked the same as before – shaggy black hair, slightly cloudy glasses that perched on the end of his nose, and a worn, ragged notebook he carried around with him everywhere as if it was his own personal briefcase. Today, he wore a grey suit with a purple tie, white shirt underneath, and amethyst cuff-links in the shape of generic gems.

 

“You look... pretty snazzy today, Percy.”

 

“As do you, my lovely Frisk,” Percy replies with a bow, setting a cup of coffee in front of you and taking the last free seat at the table.

 

“A-ah,” You breathe, picking up the cup like it's the holy grail, pressing the warmth of it to the side of your face. “You are a blessing in disguise.”

 

Papyrus raises a bony eye ridge at you two. “... have you two dated?” Sans stiffens next to him, his eye sockets going dark.

 

“Once or twice in the past, yeah.” You admit.

 

“But it wasn't really in the cards for us.” Percy adds with a shrug, shooting you a grin that you have to turn away from, just so you don't break out laughing at his cheeky behavior.

 

“you didn't tell me about this,” Sans mutters darkly, an eye directed your way.

 

“You never asked,” You reply tartly, taking a long sip of your coffee, melting from the warmth. You turn thankful eyes towards your friend. “Thank you, Percy.”

 

“Any time.” He takes a hand and presses a kiss to the back of it, unable to help his grin from showing. You can't help but smirk in return, letting out a snort. “You cad.”

 

You could feel Sans glowering at you both, and you mentally groaned at the situation. Sans had clearly shown that he was on the fence about being your boyfriend, and had even questioned you calling him that. Percy, however, takes interest in Sans, and you hope it doesn't turn foul.

 

“Is this the skeleton you like?” The raven-haired teen asked, extending a hand for Sans to shake. “He's kind of cute. I'm jealous of you, Frisk.”

 

“w-what?” Sans is blushing now, obviously not having expected _that_ reaction whatsoever. You're left howling, trying very hard to keep your laughter quiet, but only end up snorting into your arms as you put your head on the table.

 

You're gone into laughter land, thankful that you at least got to finish your food before Percy arrived.

 

\-----

 

“SANS. SHAKE HIS HAND. HE'S WAITING. DON'T BE RUDE.” At Papyrus' beckoning, you reach forward and shake Percy's hand with your own osseous one, breathing out to reply a greeting to this fellow human that had formerly dated Frisk, and was... no longer interested in them, but interested in _you?_

 

It was a strange feeling, to be sure.

 

The moment your hand connects with his, you feel a surge that is so _familiar_ , a shade of purple blazing across your vision like a falling star. You're shaken, and when you focus, you can see his soul inside of him – the color purple that could be the shade of a violet, thrumming softly with perseverance.

 

You can't help but _reminisce_ , flashing back to your skeletal fingers and summoned bones ripping apart a child with a soul the same shade as his, pages of a tattered notebook and splatters of his blood flying everywhere, clouding your vision for the briefest of moments...

 

Percy withdraws his hand, face stoic. You two are silent, staring at each other, and you're trying to gauge his reaction. _How..._?

 

“We'd better... haaah... get going,” Frisk murmurs, and you shift in your seat, putting on the smile that you knew they were used to.

 

“right, kiddo. we wouldn't want _tibia_ late, now would we?” You glance to Percy, who grins in reply, though his eyes remain dark.

 

You didn't look at Papyrus. You already knew he was frowning at you, staring at you out of the corner of his eyes.

 

“HOW ARE WE GOING TO TRAVEL? BY BUS AGAIN?” Papyrus grinned at Frisk, and you let out a breath you didn't realize you had been holding. Silently, you thank your brother for changing the subject – even if he didn't realize he did.

 

“Nah. I have another way...” Percy takes out car keys that look brand new and shine in the light, dangling them in front of Frisk's earnest gaze. “We'll be driving there _in style_.”

 

 


	16. A Tear in Space and Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, is it... _me_... you're looking for...?

**Chapter 16 – A Tear in Space and Time**

 

 

More than satisfied with your stomach full, the three of you are driven the rest of the way to the building, passing security checks (with minimal glances), and guarded gates. You were sitting in the passenger's seat, reclining back against the comfortable chair and playing with all the buttons on the seat before you took account of the direction you were headed.

 

“... Percy, we've never been this way before. What's really going on?” Percy glances to you, his expression sad.

 

“Something that wewould have never hoped you'd find out.”

 

“What?” The statement only made you more confused, a sudden, unexplained terror rising up in you. “They... who's _'we'_ , Percy?” Your eyes narrowed, and you can't help but glare at him, feeling torn. Has he been lying to you this whole time, or at least... keeping some things from you...?

 

“For one, some of us are the assholes that finally decided to pay you for all the hard work you put in.” His fingers grip the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. “You've been left out of a lot of important things, Frisk. A lot of people don't really _see_ you as the Ambassador, when you're pretty much the only one who's kept going strong for them at every turn.”

 

Your gaze falls to the floor of the car, silence filling the space between everyone.

 

“If it's any consolation, I've been behind you ever since the beginning.”

 

“Have you?” You can't help the feeling of betrayal welling up inside of you, and you wrap your arms around your waist, cheek pressed against the window.

 

_You don't have any friends, Frisk. They're all against you... trying to keep you in the dark._

 

“How long have you kept this from me?” You ask, unable to help the bitter tone from creeping into your voice. There's a long sigh from Percy, but he doesn't answer you. You bite the inside of your cheek harshly, feeling blood pool in your mouth. Right now, you don't care – you are so unused to emotional pain as of lately that physical pain feels like a descent respite.

 

Everything feels like it's falling apart.

 

Closing your eyes, you feel your body slump as darkness sinks in, and you feel your determination slipping away, your ability to care slowly fading. You feel a squeeze on your shoulder and glance back to see a worried expression on Sans, the pupils in his eyes wider than they usually are.

 

“i'm here for you, kiddo. just... remember that, okay?” Sans' expression tries to show a bit of humor, possibly a bit of happiness to uplift your spirits, but the only feeling that remains in you right now is darkness. You give him a nod, however, reaching up to put your hand over his, squeezing gently.

 

It was a small comfort.

 

Percy glances to you out of the corner of his eyes, but he says nothing for the rest of the ride, until he parks his car near the stairs to a rather large, grey building. You all pile out of the car and when you shut the door, you can't help but glower at Percy with a sullen expression.

 

“Frisk, look, I'm _sorry_.” He spreads his arms out, hands up. “I couldn't say anything before because one, it wasn't my place, and two, I would have gotten shit canned so fast that–”

 

“Save it,” You hiss, jerking your body away. “Let's go, and get this over with. I'd actually like to spend the holidays with my family, instead of pseudo friends.” Percy's reaction looks like he'd been shot, his expression pained as he falls silent. His gaze drops from yours as he walks forward, gesturing with a single hand to follow.

 

_Serves him right._

 

Sometimes, you aren't sure which voice is your inner monologue, and which voice is Chara's. Either way, the damage was done – and it only makes you feel that much worse about yourself.

 

You're led by Percy down a various set of hallways, and both Papyrus and Sans are glancing to each other as if silently speaking to one another, and then they begin to murmur to each other in low voices and moving fingers, speaking a language you can't quite understand. You don't question it, as they've always done that throughout the years – you'd tried once, only to find out that their special word signs weren't something you could decipher that easily. Sign language was just a bit different, although you did manage to pick up on a few signs.

 

'Danger', was one, signed by Sans.

 

'Protect', was another, this one by Papyrus.

 

You stopped watching after that, turning away – you could feel Chara inside of you _shift,_ as if they were somehow disappointed in you.

 

“Here,” Percy finally speaks up, stopping in front of a large mirror that showed a room of _rooms,_ each room inside holding one particular human. Some also held monsters. The door was propped ajar by a small foot prop, and a twist of the knob revealed that it locked automatically. How strange – it was most likely a security measure. Were these people that dangerous?

 

“It's affecting... _both_ humans _and_ monsters?” You're surprised, though something told you that you shouldn't be.

 

“Yes. Which is the main reason we've called you in. Maybe... you could speak to them?”

 

“absolutely not.” Sans steps forward, his eyes flashing a dangerous blue for a brief second.

 

“That's not your call to make,” Percy replies, his shoulders straightening as he stood up taller, jaw jutting out.

 

“wanna bet?” Sans takes a step forward, making Papyrus jerk.

 

“Brother, wait, perhaps this isn't–”

 

You take the distraction and open the door, letting it slam shut behind you. You turn just enough to see all three of them jump, and Percy, for some strange reason, looks _worried._

 

_What are you DOING!?_

 

Chara sounds worried, too.

 

That means you're doing something right.

 

Approaching a room and opening the door, you see a woman rocking back and forth, clutching her head in agony as she hums out same-syllable notes in a mock song, eyes shut tightly. You kneel down and reach out with a hand to press against her shoulder, just to let her know you're there.

 

Your hand never reaches her shoulder.

 

In a swift movement, she has your wrist bent back, almost to the point of pain.  _Almost._

 

“It's rude to gossip about those who are _listening_.” She hisses out in a forceful manner, her gaze shifting past you, to the glass. You turn and look, unable to see anything past the mirror – it was one way... meaning that others could watch those _in_ the room, but those _in_ the room couldn't see _out._

 

The woman still knew they were there, however.  _How?_

 

_Because of HIM. The man who speaks in hands._

 

You have no idea who that is, but before you can ask Chara what is going on, the feeling dissipates from within you, leaving you and the woman alone. It's strange – once the feeling of Chara sinks into the darkest recesses of your mind, the woman's grip loosens and she's now patting your hand gently, as if she was stroking the fur on a small kitten.

 

“There, there. Shh, it's okay. I did not mean to frighten you.” Her voice was so low that you had to lean forward to strain to hear it. “His life was cut short, you realize. The experiment went wrong. So horribly, awfully wrong.” Her hands leave you and she's left sobbing, her palms rubbing at her eyes as she doubles over.

 

“Leave me, child. _Leave._ ” Her tone of voice scares you, and you stand up to back away, rubbing your wrist gingerly.

 

There were three other rooms, and you had to talk to every one of them. Chancing a glance back, you see Sans watching you intently, his left eye glowing a vibrant blue. His fingers are pressed against the glass, and he looks  _incredibly_ unhappy with you.

 

You hold up three fingers to him, and then point at the rooms.

 

Sans gives you a slow, angry nod.

 

Papyrus is next to him, his back turned to you... as if  _he_ was watching Sans' back.

 

Shivering, you turn to apologize to the woman, only to find that particular room empty.

 

You feel your whole body go cold, as if a haunted spirit had passed right through you.

 

The second room had a short, grey monster standing near the doorway, and when you glance to him, he starts to speak.

 

“His life was cut short when he fell into one of his _creations_.” The grey stranger looks at you, as if he sees right _through_ you. “Will Alphys end up the same way...?” They kept staring ahead in silence, leaving you feel shaken, so you move to the next room. You don't glance back.

 

The third was also a monster, hand outstretched as he held...  _something_ in his hands. Looking at it makes you feel dizzy, so you focus on his soot-covered face, instead. The voice he speaks with, however... it comes  _from his hand._

 

“Alphys might work faster, but... the old Royal Scientist, Dr W.D. Gaster?” You now realize that what he is holding in his hands is a tiny head, and you can feel your skin crawl, the hairs on the back of your neck rising. This all feels wrong.

 

“One day, he vanished without a trace. They say he shattered across time and space.” Now both of the monster's 'heads' were staring at you, and you took an involuntary step back, your breathing shallow.

 

“Ha ha... how can I say so without fear? _I'm holding a piece of him right here._ ” A soft chime echoes in the air as the figure just _vanishes_ right before your eyes, and you stand there for a moment until you realize that you're _shaking_.

 

You didn't want to see the fourth one... but you had to.  _You had to see this through._

 

“How scary would it be, living in a world that looks exactly the same, only... you don't exist in it?” The voice begins to speak before you even step out of the room you're in, continuing as you step forward to address whoever – or _whatever –_ was speaking to you. “The world functions perfectly without you, not a care in the world... it makes you wonder... what difference does it make? What difference does a single person make in this world?”

 

“K- _kid_?” You step forward towards the fourth room, seeing a familiar lizard-like monster, only... their skin was grey in place of the usual yellow you were used to.

 

“You should forget about me.” Staring at you with hollow eyes, the monster tilts his head at you, tail lashing to the side.

 

“Kid, what _happened_ to you? Why are you _here_?”

 

“This one... does not go by that name.” A pause, and the monster tilts the other way. “Why are _you_ here?”

 

“I'm here because I was asked to be here.” You can't help but reach forward, startled when the lizard leaps back, continuing to back up.

 

“Forget about me, _human_. It would be wise for you not to pursue this path.” You shake your head, turning to glance to Sans, seeing the locked door finally being opened.

 

“No, wait–” You turn back to talk to the monster once more, but... like the others, they had disappeared without a trace.

 

“frisk, that was so _stupid–_ ” Sans rushes to you, grasping your hands and dragging you out of the room, visibly shaken.

 

“Sans... who is Gaster?” You interrupt, and the skeleton falls _very_ quiet.

 

He doesn't respond.

 

_They're still keeping secrets from you, aren't they?_

 

… _so are you,_ You retort back, biting your cheek. For once, Chara had nothing to say to that.

 

“Frisk, next time you decide to do something _stupid_ , please run it by me first, okay?” Percy is clenching a ring of keys tightly against his palm, and after glancing to Percy, Sans, _and_ Papyrus, you realize that you frightened all of them equally.

 

“... I'm sorry. You were all arguing, so I just... thought I'd get it over with.”

 

“Frisk,” Papyrus states softly, putting a hand on your shoulder. “We wouldn't be able to forgive ourselves if _anything_ happened to you. Do you understand?” You look up at the taller skeleton, and can feel tears stinging the edge of your eyes.

 

“Y-yeah. I'm sorry, Papyrus.” You know you fucked up, but you can't help but feel you got at least _somewhere_ , even if the information was confusing as hell. Papyrus had always been a rational thinker, even if a bit over enthusiastic at times, and he had always been there for you – just like Sans had.

 

“Just be a little more cautious next time, okay?” Papyrus pulls you into a hug, and you hug him back tightly, breathing out a long breath. “We are here for you, Frisk.”

 

“don't _scare_ me like that, kiddo.” Sans is hugging you as well, his fingers digging into your skin as his head rests in between your shoulder blades.

 

“I'm sorry. Really. I...” You felt like it needed to be done, but you still can't help but feel that you let your friends down.

 

_You really ARE an IDIOT._

 

“Frisk.” Percy presses his hands against his sides, pocketing the keys. “There's one more thing I'd like to show you.”

 

“i think we're done here,” Sans states, stepping in front of you, as if to shield you from something unknown. You sigh and close your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose as you bite your tongue.

 

“Look. Let's just get this over with. But whatever happens, Papyrus _and_ Sans stay by my side. Got it?” You reach out and take both of the skeleton's hands, squeezing them tightly as you stare at Percy with your darkest stare.

 

Percy looks like he's about to comment, but decides not to – he gives a short, meek nod before walking down the hallway, leading the three of you to the next destination.

 

The moment when both skeletons squeeze your hands in return... it fills you with determination.

 

You step forward as you take a breath, giving a thankful glance to the two.

 

“i don't like this, frisk.” Sans stares at you with his orbs, tilting his head down.

 

“For once, I agree with Sans wholeheartedly, Frisk.” Papyrus' voice is soft, worry in his features as he stares down at you. “I have a foreboding feeling about what's beyond this hallway.”

 

“It'll be okay. Really. … hugs for luck?” Letting go of their hands, you reach up with your arms and both of them embrace you in a hug, holding on tightly. “We can get through this. I have a feeling this is something that needs to happen.” Your breath catches, and you feel your eyes tearing up. “Besides, what kind of Ambassador would I be if I didn't try to take on every problem that came up? I'm doing this for everyone.” You pause, your throat tight. “At least... I'm _trying_ to.”

 

“You're a fine Ambassador, Frisk.” Papyrus whispers, nuzzling you fondly.

 

“best we could ever get, kiddo.” Sans grins up at you as Papyrus lifts you with ease, setting you on his shoulders. You breathe out, draping over his head and drawing your fingers over his skull in a petting motion, earning a strange sound from the taller of the brothers.

 

Sans glances up at you sharply, and you lift your hand hesitantly. “Uh... sorry?”

 

“That... felt good,” Papyrus admits, leaving you feel more awkward than before, but you don't have time to dwell on it as both of them walk forward, following after Percy with renewed vigor. Sans is blushing for some odd reason, and you can't help but smile.

 

“Don't worry, Sans. I'm not flirting with Papyrus.” You wink at the shorter skeleton, and he shivers down into his jacket, pulling his hood up to hide his face. Oh. That was just _adorable_ , even if it was a bit unfair for you.

 

Percy is waiting at the end of the hallway for you guys, and when you approach, you feel your determination fade. The grim look on his face sets you on edge, and you slide down from Papyrus' back to stare at him, crossing your arms. You aren't very happy with him at the moment, even though he looks a little bit sorry.

 

“Percy. I need to know just who's side you're on, here.” Percy glances to the skeletons and then to you, before letting out a long sigh.

 

“Perhaps it's better if I _showed_ you.” He opens the door to a slightly darker room, and you step through as your eyes adjust.

 

The room is _huge_. You realize you're on a balcony with stairs leading down, and the huge space held a large cylinder full of what looked to be black matter, the container the length from the floor to the ceiling. It was held in place by large metal brackets and bars, currents of electricity running from the bars into the glass walls, sending the matter reeling away from them if they lingered for too long.

 

It was a constant swirl of movement, and the same feeling that you felt before returns, your body feeling _sick_.

 

At the sides of the room were a various number of scientists, metal machinery lined up as they tinkered with it, eyes scanning over everything and – _wait,_ wasn't that one of _Alphys'_ old machines?

 

“no.” You turn to look at Sans, doubled over in his kneeling brother's arms, clutching his head as if it was in pain. “no, papyrus, i can't do this again. i _can't_.” You hesitate going down the stairs for just a moment, your face torn between comforting Sans, but... Papyrus was already there.

 

You hesitate for a moment longer, before turning to walk back to Sans, kneeling beside him.

 

“Sans?” You reach out with your hands, almost jumping when he grasps them immediately, clenching them tight enough to briefly deny the blood flow to them.

 

“frisk, you need to leave. _we all need to leave_.”

 

“Frisk.” Percy calls, and you tilt your head slightly over one shoulder, keeping your eyes on Sans.

 

“Be right there, Percy.” Your grip tightens on Sans' fingers, and he's begging you with unintelligible words not to go.

 

“I have to go. I have to take care of this... whatever it is. It's... it's my _job_ , Sans. I have to try to fix this.”

 

“no no no please no,” Sans is _begging,_ but you withdraw and walk down the stairs, heart clenching at the wrenching _sob_ that's heard from the skeleton.

 

Papyrus was strangely silent, refusing to look at you the entire time he held his brother.

 

“why is this here? why are these here, why, _why..._ ” The words lower between the two brothers, shifting into the language that only they knew.

 

_This is wrong and you know it. Even SANS is telling you to leave. Why aren't you listening? You need to run. You NEED to RUN._

 

Waving a hand in the air, you dismiss Chara's words and keep walking forward, towards the worried looking Percy. He had never steered you wrong before, even if he _did_ keep a few details from you.

 

Up close, the cylinder is a lot larger than you originally thought, the glass a few feet thick in order to contain the dark matter inside. It seems to swirl angrier than before at your approach, lashing out at the walls with renewed vigor.

 

“At first, it was a small bit of this black matter, but after we contained it, it just... grew from there.” Percy narrows his eyes at the contained matter, frowning. “It's never done _this_ before...”

 

“Is this... a monster?”

 

“Yes. Which is why we called you in. We thought you might have a guess as to how to _fix_ this–” A large sound echoes in the room, and you jump in reaction, unsure of where it came from. Percy's face pales, and he's backpedaling away from the cylinder, leaving you next to it.

 

“What–” You turn to see long cracks in the glass, and you're too stunned to move, finally realizing what the noise actually was.

 

_Damn it, Frisk, RUN!_

 

You throw your arm over your face as the glass _shatters_ , the amorphous matter pooling out onto the floor, jerking and forming over itself in an attempt to gather together. The blackness itself looked like it was shattered, the bits seeming to have stars within them...

 

_Shattered across time and space..._

 

_It was only a matter of TIME._

 

Your blood goes cold as the matter begins to form into itself, staggering into a humanoid shape as it tries to reach out to you, but you step backwards, staying away. You couldn't shake the _wrongness_ of this, the _devoid_ feeling you felt just _looking_ at it.

 

_Gaster, in all of his BROKEN GLORY._

 

A sudden strange and broken speech reverberates through your skull, ripping through your heart and soul. An underlying buzz resounded in your mind, toned beeps and dings slamming into all of your senses at various intervals, as if trying to communicate words that you just can't understand.

 

The tone becomes lower and more garbled the more you tried to block it out, and it isn't long before you're on your knees, clutching your head and screaming out in pain for it to just _stop._

 

And then suddenly – it does.

 

You chance a look up and stare at the matter again, surprised to find a skeletal figure trying to contain his form, taking staggering steps towards you, reaching out with clawed fingers that kept fading in and out of existance.

 

A chime echoes in the air, reverberating through your entire body as the skeletal arms slam into you, a look of surprise shown on the skeleton's face as it connects, sending you reeling and rolling a few feet away from your original location.

 

You wince and shiver, the wind knocked out of you – you press your hand to your chest and find blood there, pooling through your shirt. Shit. Your chest wound had opened up again. It had only been a few days, after all. You'd been through worse, right?

 

You feel something trickling down your face, and you reach up to wipe it away... finding your nose bleeding. You were bleeding from your ears, too.

 

No wonder there was that lingering, incessant ringing in your head.

 

You manage to stand, and feel your heart pumping, sights and sounds muted like you were trapped in your very own fishbowl, some noises slightly sharper than others, while others weren't there at all when they had been before.

 

Shit, you were really out of it.

 

You stagger, flopping weakly against a wall and hissing out in pain, dizzy all over again. If you stood here long enough, maybe you could get your bearings.

 

Staring at the disjointed, jerky skeleton made of stars and blackness, you licked your lips and tried to focus, feeling your vision grow hazy. The amorphous changing blob of a skeleton monster was glitching in front of you – one moment it's whole and thin, and the next moment it is stretched out with arms detached, the face floating like a theater mask of a marionette.

 

A cacophony of noise bears down on you once more, and you double over, screaming for it all to stop, for it all to _go away._

 

This time, it doesn't cease.

 

A roar catches your attention and you're thrown to the ground, Percy on top of you as if to protect you, his face torn between anger and fear, tears sliding down his face as he tried to focus on the being in front of you two.

 

“I... I didn't _know_ , Frisk, they... they told me they were _helping_...” He swallows thickly, momentarily glancing down at your chest and swearing. “ _Shit_ , Frisk. He hurt you, fuck. _Fuck._ ” Grabbing a handkerchief from his front pocket, he presses it against your chest and you let out a sharp cry, sobbing out your pain.

 

“N-nhhh, _Percy._ Percy.” You babble, clenching your teeth together to keep from crying out again. “ _Percy._ Sans... is Sans okay, is Papyrus okay? Go. Are they okay, okay... _go._ ” You try to shove him off of you, but he takes your hand and stares at you.

 

“Stay with me. Frisk, _stay with me_.” Pressing the handkerchief into your hand, he forces you to put pressure on your own chest. “Press here. I'll be right back. _I'll be right back, hold on._ ”

 

_NOW will you reset?_

 

You close your eyes, shivering.

 

_You'll die here, you know._

 

You clench your teeth, your body convulsing as you tried in vain to quell your sobs.

 

Eyes slitting open for a brief moment, you gasp as you see the melting skeleton standing over you, a low whimper escaping from your throat.

 

“̫̹̮̲̻̠H̭̥e̲̠̻̗l̟͖l̻̪̪̗̪o,̼̬̳̳̼̣ ̹C̝͇͇̦͙h̖͎̦͈̙a̝ͅr͕̮̹̬͔̻a.̲͓”̤̼̰͙̯

 

 

You jerk, crying out again, trying to keep the cloth pressed against your ever bleeding wound. The voice isn't as painful as last time, but there is  _static_ dripping from it, and you can't quite concentrate enough to see the words his fingers and hands are forming.  _He really did speak with his hands. Quite... literally._

 

“̫I̳̳ṭ ̘̗̩̣h̥̤a̝͚̯͕̘̮̳s͕̦̞ ͅb͎͓̱̼͔͈e̞̘͚ͅẹ̻n̞̖͍̤̖̲̘ ̞͚̹͓͙a ͉͍̠̪̠̣͍l̬̭̩o̰͚͇̼̼n̟̘g̜̳ ̺̣t͚̝̱i͔̬m̝͖e̫̳̮.̭̖͓̩̤.̲.̺͎ ̹̺̜̲h̦̯̹a̱̤̝͉ș̜̺n'̼̲̗̩̼̺͔t̩̤̮̤̖ ̼i̤͉͉̞ͅt̻͚?͈̦͎”̳͙͍̭͙̻

 

 

You attempt to shake your head, but that action only brings fresh pain, so you let your head fall against the wall with a soft _thud_ , your breath hitching.

 

“̖͈̪Y̝͈̜̙̺o̗̭͈u̠'̰̰̼̳̟v̯̘͓͙͕̹̦e͓͇̫͓̫̥̘ ̼̰̱̮͍ma̦͈̙̳̙̳d̠̣̻̳͓͚e͕ ̤̗̼̲̟t͓̘͔̱̳hi͙͈͕̳̥̫͎n̯̜g̫s̩͕ ̦̬̻q̝̼̰͇͙͕̹u͚̫ị͔͖͈̬̝͓t͕̳̺̫̝̮e̻̜̼̦ ̞̺͍̤d̫͈̤i̟͓̠f̱͉͚̲f̜̯̪̹̹̼i̱̖͖̮̘͉̳c̱̭͙͓̭͈u̬̰͓̹lt̬̮̦͓ f̱̪͉͖̰͓or̯̱͚͉͖ m͉e̩̫̲̬͙.̪̣̰̯̯̲͕.̠̰.͎̻̞̲̪͓”̥̱̻̝̺͙̲

 

 

Swallowing hard, all you can do is listen.

 

“͎͓̪͙̠Yo̻͚͖ṵ̺̪ r̪̤͕̦͍̰e͕m̠͇͍̲̲e̮̪̰m͖̯ͅb̞̱̪e͔̮̫̝̤̰r̫̹̹̫̻ ̩̱̪̭͕m̬̗͕y̹̤͕̹̼ ̹̠̣̺͙Bl̞̯a̖̟͈͕̰s̠͙͔͚t̻e͚̘͎̞̖̭̗r̝̥̰s, ̱̼̰͖do̞n̤'͇͔͔̪t̺ ̫̙̫̥͉y͙̘o͈̤u̠̩̠͇̫?͔͙̥̘͖ ̰͇F̣̟̬̖̝̦r̺͉̥̦͎̥̞o͚m͙̞̘͇̞͍ t̗̟̙he͖ ̤̮̺̖l̲̦͍̘͍o̼̯̳o̫̩̠̮k̰̥̝̭ ̗̮̘̰͖̻o͓̩̝̫͉͙͚n ͖̪͉̭̪̼y͍̠̦o̖͖̯̭̹̣̭u͉͙̞r͖͇͎͔̫ fa̭̝̯c̬͓͙e̠̤̞̩͎̠ͅ,͇ ̜̜͖̼ͅw̩̜̰̼e͉̺̣l̹̙̘̼͙l̗̠͍͔͔͙̺.͚͕̳͈͔̳͎.͔̜̗͈͙̳.̩̱̖ ͚̤̗̜I ̼s͔up̮̺po̲̖̝̩̦s̝̰͉͙̬͉ͅẹ̱̪̪̼ͅ ̙i̺͔̺͙͔̞t̹̮̪̙̞͇͓ ͓̗̹͚̝͉̖d̯̭ͅo̫̖̳̻̯͔es̯̙̬̦͚̣ͅn̠'t ̳͇̪̯͉m̱̰a͈̰̯̩̰̪ͅt̫ț͍̭̖e̺̲̮r̤̭.̖͓̘.̻͍̠.͔̹͖”͔͎̺̪̯͔

 

 

Two familiar figures slide out from behind him, your eyes widening with terror.

 

No. _Sans and Papyrus._

 

They look more bestial than before, their forms shifting. _Changing..._ they couldn't _control_ themselves – not while they were around this _abomination._

 

Their bones melded together against themselves, growing into longer bones, altering into forms you have never seen before. As you stare at Papyrus, his face shifts forward with cracking and squelching sounds, teeth merging out into dog-like fangs. His body is jerkily whipping out behind him as six legs shiver against the ground to hold his body up, testing the new limbs by pressing them against the ground a few times. The cracking sounds continue as the bones pop and shift, continuing to merge into something _new_.

 

The skeleton takes a moment to get his bearings, but he now resembles a mix between a large, thin dog and some kind of demon _goat,_ limbs flowing into lengthy, pointed talons. A low, guttural whine rises up in the taller beast, glowing orange eyes sliding to regard Gaster in a new light, an orange tongue reclining back in his mouth. _They had TONGUES now...?_

 

You're glancing between the two skeletons, watching them shift in tandem, not wanting to take your eyes off of either of them.

 

Sans' transformation, however, is revealed to be _much_ smaller and shorter, but quite a bit _louder_ – his whole body is a pudgier mix of the same type of skeletal beast as Papyrus, but his fangs are sharper and look _far_ more dangerous... especially with the gleam of _bloodlust_ in his eyes. Your stomach turns as you see a long blue tongue lolling out of his maw, dripping with saliva as it grazes over his teeth in a proficient manner, like he is _used_ to having a tongue.

 

He steps forward and you realize that he, too, has six legs, claws tapping against the floor with practiced ease as if he's waiting for the right command. A skeletal hand extending from the dark matter rests on Sans' head, stroking it gently and eliciting a purr-like sound from him.

 

That explained _so much_ , you think to yourself, but you can't think much more beyond that due to how much blood you've lost.

 

Sans still has one glowing blue eye, and he turns to stare at you with a dangerous smile, a slow _whuff_ of a growl dancing around your ears as he shifts a leg forward... scraping his nails on the floor to release a shrill scrape, resembling the sound of nails dragging across chalkboard.

 

“̲̫̙̪͙Le͍̫̖̫̗͍t̮͓̲͉ ̙͍l̘̘̱͇̮o̼o̩̙̫̲̯͉s̬̬̞e̲̮̜ ̙͔t͈̼͎͕͚ͅͅh͔̖̭e͉̦̪̪͚ ̮do̻g̗̳̬͉̠ͅs ͔͖̥͔o̪̰̫͙̬f̹̱̻̱̻ ̻w͙̱̱̞̯͓a̬̟ͅr̤̮̦͓̰.͉̺͕̰̲ͅ”̜͕̬̫

 

 

With a flourish of a skeletal, holed hand, both of the skeleton beasts lunge at you, jaws agape and eyes glowing with murderous delight.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... here we go.


	17. The Dogs of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You feel your past sins crawling on your back...

**Chapter 17 – The Dogs of War**

 

 

You don't know if you're running from a memory, or reality. Ghosts of dog-like skeleton beasts are chasing you, snapping at your heels as you run.

 

You don't remember standing up, or when you _started_ to run, but you feel like Chara has something to do with your survival.

 

_I don't know why you aren't RESETTING, you stupid IDIOT!_

 

You can feel their dread, their raw _terror_ as their memories intercede with your own – you can both _see_ and _feel_ the way their legs move, the twist of their bodies as they lower, bracing themselves to _leap_...

 

“I... I made a promise,” You breathe, hearing bony claws scuttle across the floor behind you, the _whoosh_ of wind at your back, and then the sound of sliding bones clattering against the wall. You have to stop for a moment at the base of the stairs and double over, still pressing the cloth to your wound. You feel like it doesn't make a difference – your hand is soaked with your own blood, but you keep pressing against it anyway, hoping that it will at least do _something._

 

The scientists you had seen earlier must have cleared out – there's lab equipment scattered everywhere, some of it ruined while others lay where they were formerly being tinkered with.

 

When you hear a second pair of claws against the floor, you realize that you took too long in your momentary pause, and turn with a sharp breath to see the taller beast approach you, mouth open as it tries to get its bearings on the smooth tiled floor.

 

“P-Papyrus,” You wince, backing up the stairs as the – what had Gaster called it, a _Blaster?_ – follows you, whining at your actions. What was left of his clothing was hanging off of his bones in bits and pieces, falling off sporadically with every movement.

 

It strikes you as odd that he hadn't attacked you yet.

 

_Yet,_ being the key word here.

 

Glancing down to the bottom floor, you see Gaster standing there, unmoving, save for his hands... but his gaze remains  _trained_ on you, never leaving. It seems that he's not letting you out of his sights.

 

Was he... _enjoying_ watching you run, watching you _suffer_?

 

_I wouldn't put it past him._

 

Your breath catches in your throat as you see Percy just a few feet away from Gaster's form, body crumpled. There's blood underneath of him, and you realize with horror that from the glazed look in his eyes, he is no longer in the world of the living.

 

Grimacing further as you fight off tears, you feel breath on the back of your neck, letting out a whine as you turn to see amber orbs staring at you. You're trying to hold it together, but Percy had been a _friend_ , despite recent circumstances – _no one_ deserved a fate like this.

 

Papyrus' tongue is lolling out of his mouth, his hind legs shifting as you cringe, and you duck down as fast as you can so you can avoid him tackling you to the ground.

 

*****

 

As you leap in the air, you're thankful that Frisk had enough sense to duck – your paws clash against your brother's chest, knocking him backwards down the stairs, the two of you ending up in a bony pile.

 

Sans would have had a pun to say about that, if he'd been any more self-conscious of himself. You found that in a way, you missed the puns. Without them, Sans was not the same.

 

You huff a breath over Sans' form, a growl rising in your skeletal throat as you speak in the language that only you two know, in your bestial forms. _“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”_

 

“ _what are YOU doing, brother? we have to protect gaster!?”_ Sans sounds completely unsure of himself, but he is defensive – he twists himself out from under you, growling in response to your attempts to pin him down. Your brother turns to sidestep you, bolting to the side, but you move quickly to block him one more. What is left of his beautiful new fur jacket is torn beyond repair, and you find yourself silently mourning the loss of such a fine gift.

 

“ _THIS IS FRISK!”_ You try to reason with him, try to explain that this is your _friend_ you're talking about. Had Sans gone completely mad? You thought he and Frisk were close, but...

 

“ _they're threatening him!”_ Sans snarls, teeth snapping forward to grasp at one of your forelegs. You know better than to snap back, worry in your eyes as you dance back and forth in front of him, your own skeletal tail lashing behind you in agitation.

 

“ _THIS IS, QUITE OBVIOUSLY, FRISK WE ARE CONVERSING ABOUT.”_ You chance a look behind you at Frisk, who is breathing hard as they're leaning heavily against the rail, and Sans takes the moment to raise a paw and slam it down on your head, making your skull ring with pain.

 

“ _they want to hurt our master!”_ Sans keeps wanting to defend Gaster, but you find yourself more and more detached from the conversation. Did years of friendship just get thrown away once Gaster had returned from wherever he had been? None of this makes any _sense_ to you.

 

“ _WE DO NOT HAVE A MASTER ANYMORE, SANS! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?”_ You can't deny that Gaster – or what's _left_ of him – is standing just a few feet away, intently watching the young human. His interest in Frisk worries you, and you don't understand why, out of _everyone_ , Frisk seems to catch his attention the most.

 

Frisk was in a lot of pain, and you were trying your very best to protect them.

 

Gaster was a broken monster, and looked the part. You aren't sure if he's even a _monster_ anymore – it's apparent that whatever is left of him is badly damaged, and beyond repair.

 

If anyone could figure out how to talk _sense_ into him, it would be Frisk. Everyone but you is going about this entire situation all _wrong_.

 

“ _our. master. is right. THERE!”_ Pacing back and forth in front of you, Sans hums at you with displeasure, trying to sidle past you once more, shoulder rushing you. You yelp in surprise, not expecting this action from your own brother, shoved to the side as he leaps up the stairs in two bounds.

 

“ _NO, BROTHER. I CANNOT ALLOW THIS POTENTIAL TRAGEDY TO HAPPEN. I CANNOT LET YOU BRING ANY HARM TO OUR DEAR FRISK.”_ At this statement, Sans seems to slow. His head swivels to look at you, a deep sadness in his eyes.

 

“ _i have no choice in this matter.”_ It seems that his own body is acting against him, movements sluggish as he whips around Frisk, nudging them from behind. Frisk lets out a pained cry, hand still pressed against their chest as they stagger forward from the force of Sans' push.

 

“ _IT SEEMS THAT I DO NOT HAVE A CHOICE IN THIS MATTER EITHER, BROTHER. I APOLOGIZE THAT CERTAIN CIRCUMSTANCES HAVE LED TO THIS EVENT.”_ Leaping up _the_ stairs, you reach out with a paw and pull Frisk close to you, relieved that they cling to you with a sob – you're curled around the Ambassador now, watching as Sans' look becomes more distraught.

 

“ _forgive me... brother.”_ Sans opens his mouth as an inner light shines within him, energy forming in a brilliant glow.

 

“ _NO!”_ Turning to cover Frisk with the entirety of your body, you shield Frisk from the brunt of Sans' blast attack, wailing in pain as your claws dig into the steel floor, creating irreversible gouges from the force you put into protecting your friend.

 

Your vision is swimming now, and you falter – against your will, you fall to the ground, a low whimper escaping your throat as you glance to Frisk, trying your very best to tell them in silence that you were sorry,  _you were so sorry–_

 

Your vision dims, and your consciousness wavers. Darkness overwhelms you.

 

*****

 

“No, no no no,” You cry out, running your fingers over Papyrus' form, tears staining your cheeks. “No, Papyrus, no, please, no...” You hoped that he won't turn to dust, but after a moment, it looks like he's just passed out. You run your convulsing fingers over the cracked skin of Papyrus' skull, finding something orange glowing there – it looked to be a core of crystal, magic emanating from its very essence.

 

Solid magic. You had never seen this from any other monsters – your hands pressing against Papyrus' body revealed that there was a soft hum emitting through the skeleton's bones, and you can't help but let out a gentle wail, pressing your forehead against his.

 

He was still alive. _Barely_.

 

Turning an angry glare to Sans, you press yourself closer against Papyrus' body, a shiver overcoming you.

 

“ _Why?_ ” You can't control your shaking, hands pressing against Papyrus' still form. _“He's your brother!_ You could have... you could have _killed_ him, Sans!”

 

The beast doesn't answer, merely stepping forward, a hesitant paw pressing against the floor. His left eye still glows a brilliant cobalt blue, the hint of amber dancing within, like a flame. Is he going to use his energy attack on you again?

 

“Sans! _Please_!” You cling to the unconscious Papyrus as if it will help you, and you can't control your sobs from making your body shake. “It's _me_ , Sans. Don't do this, _please...”_

 

Your begging does no good. You flinch when Sans opens his mouth, thinking that he's going to use your blaster on you, as well. He hesitates for a moment before picking you up by your clothing, grasping on with the gentlest of touches. Trying to dislodge yourself from the clamped hold Sans has on you, but you only end up swinging – he's bounding towards Gaster, the briefest of glances given towards the fallen Papyrus. Sans seems to sigh deeply, dropping you before the strange skeleton.

 

“͓̬̠̼̗Ṭ͇͕̣̀͡h̜̰a̝̠̹̳̭͖͉̝ṱ̤̣͍̼ ̶̹̳̭̼̕͟ẃ̘̰̯͇͙͘a̶҉̸̯̟̣̩̪͖͓̺s̸̭̮̰͉̣ ͉͕̫͙̗͖͢a̞̝̙̯̯̮̰̜n̛̛͍̤͓̣̪̥͡ ͏̶͚̟̬͙u̯̜̜͚͚n͔͈̙͍͢͞n̻͇̫̻̼͙̦̭͘e̫͔͖̘c͚̪̞̬é̵̬͚͡s͚̪̗͇̭̬ͅͅs͞͏̨̹̬͈̣̮a̫͍̫͚̣̻̥̜͡r̢̪͔͎͔͟y͍͙̰͙̦͘͜ ͕͈̕c̴̜͠h̨͖̞̥̤͢͝a̵͎͓͍̬͈͈̥͘ͅș̩̺͎̱̜͍͘͟e̢̼̜͔͇̺̭̳,̴͓̣”̤̣̪̥͖̠̣̦

 

Gaster speaks to you, looking down at you with a jerk of his head. You can see his hands appearing from the void he is, white and long skeletal fingers pressed against each other in a manner of contemplation.

 

“They're _brothers._ Why are you doing this to them?”

 

“̧̡̛̮̩̜Ṭ̶̪̕͘h̦e̢̖̯̕ͅy̴͙̫̲̥̱͙͡ ͏̨̳͕̠̥̟ͅa̯̠̩̘̖̹͡r̦e̶̗͍͖̯̗͈̰͝ ͇͔̝͉̱̞̣͉̀͞ͅm͏̠͉i̘̮̹͙̻̺̳̪͟n̷͟҉͇̘ͅe̺̰̯̲̥͉̰.̥̞͔͈̺̟̻͖̟ ̡͔͓͟ͅT͏͈̗͉̰͙̰̤̞h̭̣̘̝e̮͍̣̭y̶͓͇̘̻̺̯̫͠͞ ̭̞̰h͈͍͈a͎̗̖v̧҉̴̖͕̘̗é̸̲ ͏̡̺͔̦̝͠a̺͉͚͕̖̙͟͞l̷̹̞͘w̶͉̺̱̗͍̩͚̹͟a҉̷̯̩̤͍̙͔͍y̳s͚̤̙̱̤̀ͅ ҉͎͇̗̺͝b̰̼̙̟͈̀͝ͅḙ̠͎̞̕e̹͙̳̺̳̞̪̘͔n҉̴̷̝ ̸̨͔͚̜̬̭̙̣m͖͍̳̖͎i͔̣̝ń͕͇̥ͅè̴̗͇̯̯̠̩͕,̧̬̣̻̟́͜ ҉͓͔͉̹̙̪̟͚͢d̨̤͓̰̳̕é̳̜ḁ̡͓͓̙̲r̸͈̦ ̟̘͓̜͖͖̲̘͟͢c̣͓͡h͓̞͚̘͕͘ͅi̟̖̪̗͟l̶̰̝̘̞̳̠d̢̳̩.̨͓͔̼͙͡ ̹̬̭̞͢Ý͉̰o̠̯̭̙̩͇̲u̙̜̜̪͎̟͟ ̸̫͓̪̣͙̕k̪̯̳̰̹̩̟̀́͢n̝̦̯̯͡ͅo̧͕̹̥̥̜͎͡ẁ̴̨̗̩͙͈̯ ̵͏̵̤͍͈̤̦͎ț̷̨̳̻̫͝h̲͖͇̟̻̜̺̮͞͠i̥̜̞̘͉̞̘s̰͚̱̖̳̤͟.̢̜̰͔̱̠͡”̷͇̫́

 

 

He tilts his head in a curious manner, as if contemplating something.

 

“Monsters don't belong to each other. They're _free_. Free to make their _own choices._ ” This entire thing was _wrong_ , and you feel like this whole situation could have been completely _avoided_. Why hadn't you tried talking, as you normally did? Things had escalated far too quickly.

 

A long sigh is heard from Gaster as his hands fall away from each other.

 

“̷͉͈͙͖͉̰̕ͅI̸̧̟̯̻ ͉̤̝͕͈͉͎t̢̥͈͙͇̤͔͜i̩̥͠r̢̳͔̮͕͞e̷̲͕͓͇͉͕̕ ̭͚o̴̜f̡̼̬̳̟ ̮̹̗̼̟̰̭t͍̤͓̩͇h́҉̩̤̺̼͢ị̖̮̹̱̮͇̖̪͢ś͉̮̥ ̷̤̟̻̠͕͡c̢̟͎̙̹͚̞ͅh̭͔̲̝̪̮a͟͝͏̞͉͈̪͍̱̟̗̬r̥̣̩̪͉͕͈̯̻à̵̘̰̰̭͘ͅd̺͕̣͈̠̠͜e̴̺̭̘̮͎̜̠,̸͍̘͍̟̯̤̯ ̠̼̼̱̜̀̕͞C͕̱̩̻͈͙̲h̸̶̳̹̮̳̳̪̮̕a͢҉͚͇̹̯̜͘r̗̼̙͇a҉̨͓̲͉.҉̡̭͈̹̟̺̰ͅ”̜͈̖̲͚̱̞̹̭͡

 

 

Phantom hands suddenly grasp onto you, forcing you down onto the ground. Your shaking never stops, but you're _terrified_ , not knowing how this is going to play out. Chara is _screaming_ in your mind, just as terrified as you are, which strikes you as strange... and making you lull into a sense of calm.

 

_RESET. RESET, RESET, RESET RESET RESET RESET–_

 

In a way, it puts your mind at ease when someone  _else_ is erratically losing their metaphorical mind.

 

“̷̶̤͔̟̣̜D̴͏̢̥̻ò̷͔̤̪ ̦̯̦̜̙͜y͉̜̳̞̘̪̻͇͟͟o͇͉̙̪̯͘u̮̖̞͈̖ ̨̰̳͞k̶̝͈͇ń̛̟̺͎̙̗̲͚͢ó͇̼̙͝w҉̳̘͙͉̜̱̞͢ͅ ҉̢̣̩̣̭h͍̤̕̕͢o̴̘̠̤̦͚̖w̟̪̭ ̴͖̫l͉̘̟ơ̤̥̠̤͔͟n̢͕̞͢g̴͏̩̺͚̤̱̬̖̜̭ ͕̻̰̹̜̹̻̱I̱̬̬̤͓͎'̸̷̠͈͚̪̟͈̤̹v̰̤̦e͍̬͘͢͢ͅ ͕̗͉͖ͅb̺̘̼̲̬̹̹͢͞ȩ͏̪̪͚̗̬̙̲͎͔̕ḛ̴̭̩̠̬n̴͈̱͍̭̥ ̥̗̣̬͎̯͇̕͟w̸̥̳̹̩̰a̛̟̦̻̯̮i̢̞͞t̢͏̳͓̟͙̝͔͚͇͚į͕̲̘̩̫̕n̫̼͙̜̤͞ǵ̡͉͖ ̛͉̱̣f͍̫̮̯̻̺̗͈͠o̧͕̼̲̺̰͔̪͓ͅr͝ͅ ̡̝̫̫͎͘͝ͅt̵̙̟̥͝h̨̰͚͉͖͍̬͘i͚̘s̢̤͓̟̲ ̕͏̜̘̞̱͕̙͖m̭̝̱̣̺̳̞͝ớ͔̞̠̞͈̖̖͎m̛̜̝e̶̤̱̼̬͎n̖̬t̨̢͎̻̣̞̀ͅͅ?̼ͅ ҉͏̥̙͡ͅP̪̦̱͔̖̟̭̱͠i̴̶͓̼̮̺̳̖͈n͕͍͇̥̱͙̖̼͟i͏̦̹̺͔̥̳̟͝ͅn̸҉̩̼g̪͕͝ ̞̕f̖̜͘ͅo̸͓͎͔̘̕͟r͕̤̪̥̟̠̕͢͢ ̻͉͕͜͠t̷̼͕h̵̛̳ͅę̝̫̖ ͏҉̫̙̻c͖̟͉̟̦͡ͅh҉͕̜a̞̮̖͝ņ̻͓̞́͡c̨͈͎͍͖e̙̙ ͓̬͔̯̖̳̀t̡̺̩̙̭͍̲o̩ ̸҉̪͍g̤͍͡e͎̳͉͍͍͓̖̱̦t̵͓͎͔̳͞ͅ ͡͝͏̘̳̤̱̘̹ͅm̮͈̼y̵̨̗̟̱̬̩̖ ̙͔͔̬͢͢͢ͅr͓̦̠̞͢e̷̖v̷͓͕̩͢͟ͅé̢͉͕͔͓̥̠n̵͚̲̯͔̮̱͉̕ǵ̬̺͖̬͎̪͓͝ͅȩ̩̬͘?̧̙̠”̗̪͍͔̯̮̻̯

 

 

His speech becomes dangerous again, the chiming pain you felt before returning in full force. It makes your head ring and skull throb with an oncoming headache that you can't shake.

 

_THIS WILL NOT END HERE, HE HAS NO IDEA WHO HE'S DEALING WITH–_

 

“̷͎̫͘͟T͏̛̦̲͎̪̙̘̱̼h̴̛̛̻͎̖͓̝i̤͈̭ş̡͍̰̙̘̟͉͓̟ ̡̙̗̳s̸͈͇̬̯̜̟̘o̯̲͚̹u̧̙̭̙̦l̘̼̕.̲̬͕̖̰̙̥.̻͖͠.̩͇̺̰̖̼͡ͅ ͕͇̝̭̭̮̲͠i̞͍̜̦̹ͅs͏̛͔͇̙̫n̶̦̖͕͢'̹͇͙̞͎̜͢t̢̲̤̮͍̫̪̟͞ ̶̡͈̪̬̮̬̲̙͖̲y̗͉̙͇̰̮̕͜o̵̯͖̲̳͎̭͓͙̠͟u͔̙̦̺͉̻͘͘r̴̗s̢̛̜͖̖͎̺,̜̰̺̼̠͉͢ ̧͚͓̗̦̙̮̞̖͞͡Ç͍̭̟͔͝h̨̰̳͎̕͟a̸̘̰̭r̶̨͇͇̝͙̻̦͇à̴̖̺͕̪̣.̷͝͏͉̪̣͔͈͚ ̤̪͜Ș̶̯̦͎̭͠o͍͉̖̻̳͟,̡͏͖̰̳ ̮͚t̤̬͍͙͞͠h̡̪̖i̤̯̤̖̘̖̳̜̫s̡̧̠̝̲̟̰ ̧̖́ṭ͖̙̼̬͕͕͔̕͟í̥̥̰͙͜m͉̜̮̫̝͙e̘̳.͢҉̻̭͖̥̘̬.͎̯͕̮͉̲͢.͉̖͍̙̯̮̟̮ ̶̷̼̳͎͇̙̳̬͉ͅI̧͙̫̮̰̟̦͚̝͝'̴̠̳͔͇ͅl̗̖̩̜̱̳̩̗l̞̜͞͠ ̨̞̠̥̻̠̀ͅț̯̰̪̠̗̫̻͉a̠̟͟k͏̻̠̘͔͙̪̞ẹ̶͔̟̰̖̰̼ ̟̦͞ỳ̧̢̱̜o͉̣̹͕͙ͅṳ̸͍̳͎̣͈̼͎ ̧̤̯͎͚̼͖̤͡w̵̧̛͉̖̥̯̣͚í̦̻̹̖͞t̸̢̧̼͇̫h͚́ ͓̳͔͔̹̬̼͝͠m̡̝̮̖͠ͅę͇̗͚͈͢.̧͉̫̭̪̯͡”҉̠̻͟

 

 

There's an endless shrieking in your head now, accompanied by bells that clang and clatter in your mind without remorse. With much apprehension, you realize that Gaster is no longer holding back – _he had been holding back before. He was merely TOYING with you._

 

“ _No!_ ” You realize that both you and Chara speak out as one, and you try to sit up, forcing yourself to try to push the phantom hands away. It does no good – they hold fast, pressing tighter against your limbs and skin, and you can feel yourself start to bruise, the pain pinching and throbbing.

 

Reaching forward with those holed, skeletal hands, you see your heart pulled from your chest by the skeleton man in front of you, feeling bony fingers tearing your soul apart in a slow motion – the pieces scattered by the phantasm's hand.

 

You were now a part of the void that was also a part of Gaster...  _scattered across time and space._

 

*****

 

Everything is a blur.

 

You remember attacking your brother.

 

You remember attacking  _Frisk_ .

 

You're forced to watch as Gaster – your own  _master_ – tears out the soul of the friend you've had for  _years_ , unable to do anything. You can't act. You can't  _react_ . You can only remain stationary, but you glance out of the corner of your eyes at your fallen brother, your throat vibrating with a whine you wanted to echo. You had hurt him.

 

_You had hurt him badly._

 

How could you have done such a thing? Frisk was right, he was your own  _brother_ . He'd been there for you even when you hadn't wanted it. He had  _always_ been there for you, and how had you repaid him?

 

_By attacking him_ .

 

The moment Gaster rips Frisk's soul from their body, you jerk and are in control of yourself once more. You stagger, letting out a sound now, envious of the way Papyrus had resisted Gaster's control over you two. You were the less fortunate, and you only had yourself to blame.

 

As a Blaster, you were never supposed to use Gaster's own ability – it left you weak and vulnerable, unable to resist the controlled force that he had over you.

 

Papyrus had only ever used bones in his attacks. You? You had stretched yourself to your limit... and look where you were  _now_ . You can't help but pace back and forth, giving Gaster a mix between a growl and a whine, trying to explain to him that this was your friend, this was  _Frisk..._

 

Gaster gives you a disappointed frown, shaking his head as he dismisses you with a hand. He doesn't even _speak_ to you, let alone acknowledge you're there.

 

Frisk's body suddenly _moves_ , coughing as they sit up, hand pressing against their chest.

 

“Heh... you really are an _idiot_.” Frisk stands, and you blink to see red eyes – no, this wasn't Frisk. This was _Chara_. Gaster looks... _intrigued_? It's hard to tell with the scientist, and you let out another whine, grabbing Chara's attention.

 

“Oh, look. The short, _pudgy_ one has returned.” Staggering to their feet, you see a flash of silver in their hand, and you slam forward to bite down on their arm, wanting to prevent them from attacking Gaster.

 

They cry out, and you feel pain in your left eye, crimson dotting across your vision.

 

You cry out now, your teeth parting as you writhe away from the human, an earsplitting keen thundering from your body as you paw at your eyes, trying to relieve the pain that was there. You'd felt this pain before, a long time ago, the same circumstances – you remember that once upon a time, Chara had taken your right eye, a long time ago. _It had been so long ago..._

 

You can barely see, but Gaster's expression looks like his heart has _shattered_ , utter devastation in that gaze of his. He's reaching out for you. This action surprises you, because you hadn't really figured Gaster would be one for _caring_.

 

There is sudden pain along your neck and side, and you feel your body split apart, your core leaking through the cracks in your skull and neck. Sapphire mixes with crimson as you sink to the ground, your body shaking as you try to fight off the inevitability of your demise.

 

Through the pain and swirl of dark colors, the last thing you see in your conscious state is Chara launching forward at Gaster, their knife slicing across his body, red mixing with dark stars that can only be described as a part of the tall skeleton.

 

Your vision dulls... and then there is nothing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what I do, [please consider donating](https://www.paypal.me/fether)? Thank you!


	18. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're thrown astray, but will you find your way?

**Chapter 18 – Lost**

 

 

Bleak obscurity.

 

It blankets the entirety of your vision, and you feel only yourself in the void, your own breathing filling the absolute silence here.

 

There is nothing before you.

 

There is nothing _behind_ you.

 

Despite you turning and looking around, all you see is your own ghostly form, a faded red that glows when you look _through_ your skin, and blackness that seeps into every inch and crevasse that is able to be observed.

 

Doubling over, you cringe and press the palms of your hands to your eyes, exhaling for a long moment. It's strange, how you have no pain in this place, or no sense of time whatsoever – you're floating in air, drifting freely.

 

You have no body, and no soul. Unless... this form, this _corporeal_ form... _was_ your soul. _Is_ your soul. Are you dead? You don't feel dead. Are... you still alive?

 

You don't feel quite alive, either.

 

You think you fall asleep, but you have no dreams. You think you're awake, but you have no sense of yourself. You _must_ have slept, however, because now that you're alert and _conscientiously_ seeing, you're staring at different shapes of spheres, the orbs resembling bubbles.

 

Each bubble is different from the other, and each one is playing scenes, playing pictures that move. There is no sound escaping from any of them, even though you distinctly see lips moving.

 

Merely the thought of _wanting_ to be closer sends you careening wildly into one, and you pass through it in a brisk manner, feeling your body jerk and _alter_ , memories that you've never _had_ before filtering into your mind.

 

The moment your hand touches the bubble, a trickle slides into your mind, but as your whole body slams through, your body is a torrent, a conduit for the mass flood that fills you.

 

“ _I don't want to be the Ambassador.” The words are clear, and Asgore looks slightly shocked after he's asked you, but Papyrus steps forward and exclaims his pleasure over the situation._

 

“ _I GUESS IT'S UP TO THE GREAT PAPYRUS!” Papyrus raises a hand to the air, clenching his fist before kneeling down and putting both hands on your shoulders, his face full of pride. “IT'S OK, FRISK! I'VE GOT YOU COVERED! IF YOU DON'T WANT TO BE THE AMBASSADOR... I CAN DO IT FOR YOU!” Confusion must have run over your face; you remembered saying yes, but the words out of your mouth had clearly been 'no'. Papyrus only smiles at you, and bounds off happily._

 

“ _I'LL GO MAKE A GOOD FIRST IMPRESSION!”_

 

_You turn to look at Sans, and he's looking at you... in a strange manner, as if looking through you. You open your mouth to speak, but he merely smiles and waves a hand, dismissing your thoughts._

 

“ _welp. someone's gotta keep him from getting into trouble.” The skeleton turns his back on you, heading towards the stairs back underground. Had.... had he forgotten something? He wasn't following Papyrus, which strikes you as odd._

 

“ _see you guys.” Walking off, you watch him go with a sad expression, not knowing_ why _you felt so sad all of a sudden._

 

“ _MAN. Do I have to do EVERYTHING?” Undyne speaks up, huffing a great sigh. “Papyrus, wait!!!” The fish monster runs after Papyrus, and the world seems to fizz and fade from your view, as if there are tears in your eyes, blurring everything in sight–_

 

You're shaken, but you right yourself and stare at the bubble you just passed through – nothing has changed, and the scene continues on as if you had never been there to begin with.

 

Was that... a memory? You knew that it wasn't _your_ memory, but it was still... a memory, nonetheless. Maybe it was a _timeline_ , like what Sans had been talking about, but... that makes no sense to you. Why now, of all times, were you having an existential crisis?

 

The next bubble intrigues you, and you float towards it earnestly, finding it full of stars. A whirlwind of colors in a seemingly endless star system surrounds you as you enter the bubble...

 

_You're floating in space. A shooting star passes by you, and you turn to see a skeleton in blue with wide eyes that resemble the galaxy itself, stars in his eyes as he slows, surprise flitting across his features._

 

“ _frisk?” Shifting direction, the skeleton dressed in blue and yellow reaches out for you, and you reach back, clasping his hand gently, feeling like you should_ know _him, but this version is so different, so vastly different..._

 

 _But it's full of hope, and stardust... and_ knowing _that makes you feel at peace with this world, realizing that if everything dies, if everything stops living... it would still be a part of something. Their dust – no, their_ star _dust... would scatter across the cosmic skies and be a part of something larger, something greater than what they were now._

 

_The skeleton smiles at you, a knowing smile, seeming to realize something you don't – he lets go of you to return to his own nebula, and you're floating away, the stars fading–_

 

You're floating outside again, feeling _moved_ , resolute and full of purpose.

 

Another bubble moves, and before you can move out of the way, it just flows _through_ you, the dark feeling from the orb overwhelming you much quicker than the last one had.

 

“ _Please, human. I know you have some decency in you...” Papyrus speaks softly to you, hands outstretched as he stares with innocent eyes at your face, instead of your hands which are holding the knife with malicious intent. His eyes seem haunted, strangely... intellectual, as if he's seen this happen before._

 

_As if he's trying to talk you out of it, again._

 

_Again. Again, again..._

 

“ _Not only do you not like puzzles, but the way you shamble about... from place to place...” He blinks. “The way your hands are always covered in dusty powder...” He doesn't move as you step closer, but his gaze still remains sad._

 

“ _It feels as if your life is going down a dangerous path.”_

 

“ _However... I, Papyrus, see great potential within you! Everyone can be a great person if they try! And me... I hardly have to try at all!” His smile is so innocent, so_ genuine... _that you can't help but falter for a moment, wanting nothing more than to drop the knife and run into his arms, hugging him tight and telling him that you're sorry, that you had no idea what came over you..._

 

_You take another step closer._

 

“ _Hey! Quit moving. This... this is what I'm talking about. You need guidance... someone to keep you on the straight and narrow.” Your hand grips the blade tighter, and your stomach feels sick. Why were you doing this? You_ loved _Papyrus._

 

“ _Worry not. I, Papyrus... will gladly be your friend and tutor! I will turn your life... right around!”_

 

_You take another step closer. Two. Three._

 

“ _I see you are approaching.” Papyrus' arms open as his eyes seem to light up. “Are you offering a hug of acceptance?” He seems a bit relieved. “Wowie... my lessons are already working! I, Papyrus, welcome you with open arms!”_

 

_Your body lurches forward, the knife slashing in front of you as you scream out in rage, your scream trying to deny your actions._

 

“ _... well.” Papyrus blinks, his body dissipating into dust as his head remains. “That's... not what I expected.” He stares up at you, his head remaining as you approach closer, kneeling down to stare at him eye to eye._

 

“ _B-but... st... still!” He's terrified now, but he's still holding on. “I believe in you! You can do a little better... even if you don't think so!” Your foot raises and lands on his skull, and Papyrus looks so tired, so worn out, so defeated._

 

“ _I... I promise...” Were the last words that Papyrus uttered before you put pressure on your foot, the skull exploding into dust in front of your eyes._

 

You're grossly sobbing as you tear yourself out of the bubble, wanting to do nothing more than scream, trying to deny that it was your own hands that murdered one of your best friends in cold blood... that you landed the killing blow. You couldn't _change_ it, no matter how much you wanted to – the actions were still done, leaving you more than confused and upset than ever.

 

_Your world fades into view, the colors around you all muted. You realize that you're in another bubble... another timeline, but everything looks darker and more dreary._

 

_You're standing outside of the skeleton brothers' house, and as you turn, you're slammed against the wall of the house by various bones, a figure in red approaching you._

 

_It was Sans. … but yet, it wasn't Sans. At least, not the same one you had come to know and love._

 

_This one wore red, had a far more sinister grin, and a gold tooth to show off that dirty smile of his..._

 

“ _hello, sweetheart. what have we here? a little lost lamb straying too far from their meadow...? tch, what a loss.” You can feel blood pooling from your shoulders, and wonder why he missed your heart when he clearly had excellent aim to begin with._

 

“ _S-sans, w.. what...” You cough, unable to continue your questioning. What_ had _been your question? You don't understand why this is happening to you. Why was Sans acting this way? … why did he look so different?_

 

“ _darlin'... i'm wondering just who told you my name.” As he approaches, his skeletal hand shoots out and closes on your throat, cutting off your air supply. You try to struggle, tears stinging the corners of your eyes as you move your legs, trying to pull yourself from the wall, feeling even sicker once you hear the squelching of the bones against your blood and flesh._

 

“ _hey, dollface... i didn't say we were finished.” His other hand moves to_ slam _into your chest, making you cry out in pain, vision faltering for a moment. Everything blurs and then you focus, seeing Papyrus standing behind Sans with a disapproving expression on his face._

 

_That... was good. Papyrus... he could put a stop to this._

 

“ _TCH. A PATHETIC HUMAN. PATHETIC ENOUGH TO BE CAUGHT BY EVEN YOU, SANS.” Sans' eyes glanced to Papyrus and you can see him falter for a moment, anger flashing in that gaze of his – but the next moment, it's completely gone, and the shorter skeleton is backing up with a shrug._

 

“ _heh. guess so, bro. i take it you want to finish the job?”_

 

“ _THAT WOULD PLEASE ME VERY MUCH, BROTHER.” Papyrus approaches you, and you can feel your eyes widening. You begin to struggle, a low whine erupting from your throat._

 

“ _No, no no no, please, no,_ please _...” You try to wrench yourself from the wall again, watching in horror as Papyrus lifts his hand and a long, white bone forms above his palm. With a flick, it's sent careening right into your stomach–_

 

Staggering, you don't have time to react before you're falling once again, feeling a whirlwind of emotions cascade like a waterfall through your mind. The feelings are indescribable, tormenting you all at once so that you can't control them, unable to help but feel like a floodgate has been opened that your mind can't tolerate, control, or even understand.

 

You were in pain for a brief moment, feeling the bone rip through your skin, but the feeling only lingers a moment – you put your hand over your stomach to feel heat there. It had happened, but there were no wounds to _show_ that they had happened. You _remembered,_ though.

 

_You're floating in an abandoned timeline._

 

_You see fragments of things, the Core below you, no longer hot – it's cooled and dark and swirling like the deep abyss of an ocean._

 

_You see a spectral figure that looks like Gaster, and you visibly flinch, trying to curl up to protect yourself against any onslaught that would approach you. Compared to the last incidents you met with, you're not sure how this one is going to play out._

 

… _nothing happens._

 

_Glancing up from your hands, you see that the skeleton looks more like Sans than Gaster, though there are still major differences that make you wary, such as the cracked, aesthetic and symmetrical looking lines above and below his eyes, and the fact that he was a fair bit taller than your own Sans._

 

_There's no gold tooth this time, which makes you only a little bit relieved._

 

_He's staring at you, and you try to move backwards, managing only to spin in place, careening towards the abyss below. You don't know why it terrifies you, but it does, and you don't want anything to do with it, but try as you might, it's sucking you in and you can't do anything about it._

 

_You feel that if you go beyond that abyss, you will never return._

 

“ _frisk, buddy. come here.” The strange looking Sans uses his magic on you, pulling you closer, up and away from the darkness below you. You try to resist until he wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly._

 

_From that simple action, you're reduced to a sobbing mess._

 

“ _you have to stop this.” He speaks softly, drawing back to look at you. You stare at his face, unable to help your hands from reaching forward and tracing over the glowing blue lines below and above his eyes. His eyes look like they're made of vast stars, black and full of teeming life._

 

_He allows you to touch him, barely reacting._

 

“ _Stop...?” You find yourself asking, reluctantly withdrawing your touch from him._

 

“ _yes, frisk. this is dangerous. if you travel into too many timelines, you can irreversibly alter them.” He lets out a sigh. “you were never meant to piggy back on a timeline that wasn't your own in the first place. how did you get here?” You glance down and press your hands against your chest, indicating your heart._

 

“ _... Gaster.” You breathe out your answer, and from the skeleton's expression, an angry understanding seems to dwell in his eyes._

 

“ _i see. it seems something will have to be done, then.” He's silent for a long moment, holding you in place for a long moment, both of you drifting up, up, away from the dark maw below._

 

_He seems to drift away from you after that long silence, pushing against you and sending you careening wildly out of his view._

 

You're spinning, dizzy until you land and see the figure you had first laid eyes on in your own realm... your own timeline.

 

 _Gaster_.

 

He looks absolutely regal as he stands, his expression stoic and unchanging, almost like he's a king in his own self-made kingdom.

 

It seems that in this realm, he's completely calm and collected, not spastic and glitched as he was outside of the void. He turns to stare at you, fingers pressed together in a polite manner as he seems to collect his thoughts, eyeing you, expression unchanged.

 

Now that he's mostly stationary, you see that his hands _actually_ have holes in them, and weren't for just looks earlier with all of the glitching. You shift your body into a more comfortable position, rubbing your arm as you frown. You can't help but glance over him with a slight curiosity – he wears a turtleneck sweater much like Sans', and a black jacket. You realize that you can't find where the jacket ends and the void begins – almost as if he's the void _itself_ , manifested into a humanoid figure.

 

You don't realize that he's moving his hands until he's halfway through signing, and you part your lips to speak, finding that you have no voice here – all sound is stripped away, save for your own breathing. You'd forgotten that you had no voice here, when you were so used to speaking in the bubbles. Shakily, you try to sign back, swallow, then fix your mistake by shaking your head and starting over.

 

[Sorry, I did not catch that,] You sign, hoping that you aren't as rusty as you feel. Gaster inclines his head towards you, a curious expression sliding across his face as he gazes at you for what feels like a long moment.

 

[Do you remember me?] He finally signs to you, and you frown further, shaking your head.

 

[No. Should I?] There is another long moment, and Gaster reaches up to press his fingers to his mouth in a somewhat distressed gesture. He closes the distance between you two, reaching forward to grasp your chin and tilt your face up to examine you in a closer, more personal manner. You're unable to stop the heat from rushing to your face, finding his fingers smooth against your skin – it's an alien feeling, and you can't help but compare it to Sans' slightly rougher touch, suddenly yearning for it, despite the terror of knowing what the skeleton had become.

 

Moving your face from side to side, he strokes a finger down the sides of your cheek with his other hand, still holding your face in a gentle manner, seeming to search over certain areas on your skin.

 

[… where are your scars?] He pulls away to sign to you, his face looking even more distressed.

 

[I... don't have any.]

 

Gaster's shoulders slump as he frowns, extending a hand out to you, his disdainful attitude fading. [Are you not Chara?]

 

[My name is Frisk.] You spell out your name for him, and then take his hand, fingers sliding over his palm. You can't help but admire how his hands are put together, so vastly different from Sans and Papyrus. The skeleton seems startled at your reaction, closing his fingers over your hand, pulling you forward in a tender manner.

 

You aren't expecting this, your body floating freely towards him and colliding with his, finding him more solid than he looks.

 

[F R I S K.] He signs to you slowly, as if having trouble with the name. You nod and give him the sign for _yes_ , but he still looks troubled. You aren't sure why, but you know you're telling the truth. Despite everything... who else would you be but _you_?

 

A fine line of red appears across Gaster's chest, what looks to be stars made of blood spilling from the open wound. Had you any voice, you would have cried out, but your hand still flies to your mouth in horror. In a lethargic motion, Gaster stares down at it with an odd expression – an expression that you haven't seen on him yet.

 

[It seems... that I have made a grievous error.] He motions with his fingers, staggering as you rush forward and press your hands against the wound, hoping to stop the bleeding.

 

[Child... what are you doing?] All you can do is shake your head, fresh tears welling up as you keep pressing against the wound, not wanting to let up. [Child, this is madness.] He reaches up and pries your fingers away, his hands holding your wrists. You make a face, signing a word many times until he understands it.

 

[Mercy.]

 

[Mercy.]

 

[MERCY.]

 

His eyes widen at you, as if he's never read that word before in his life. His fingers let go of your wrists, and he backs away from you like a wounded animal, unsure if you really mean it or not.

 

[Is this a trick?]

 

[Mercy.]

 

You're tired, and you feel yourself drifting downward, your soul taxed. You still sign the words, and spell out the letters, as many ties as you can.

 

[Mercy. Mercy. _M E R C Y._ ]

 

You've fallen into familiar arms, curling up in them. Glancing up reveals the strange looking Sans from the last timeline you've visited, and he isn't looking at you – he's _glaring_ at Gaster.

 

“can't you give the child a _break_?” He states, and you're surprised that he's actually able to _speak._ How is he able to speak in this area, if you cannot?

 

[Sans...] Gaster begins to sign, and the skeleton holding you _jerks_ , his scowl deepening. Your eyes widen as you glance from Gaster to Sans, and the similarity suddenly _clicks_ in your mind. This Sans... no wonder he looked vaguely familiar. But still, he was... rather different than the Sans you were used to.

 

“no. _no. you don't get to call me that._ ” You hear a growl deep in his throat, his fingers digging into you. They release after a moment, and he forces a sigh, relaxing his hold on you. “the name is _nova_.”

 

[I... m a d e y o u,] Gaster begins to sign, and Nova stiffens, setting you down with a soft apology, his fingers brushing over your hair before he _floats_ over to Gaster.

 

“let's get one thing straight, _gaster_. you didn't make me – i fell into the core and _fused_ with one of your _fragments._ that doesn't mean you _made me_.”

 

Gaster pauses for a moment, looking confused, and then points to you. [F R I S K. You... care for them?]

 

Nova pauses, not looking at either of you now.

 

“... _buddy_.” Nova's breath hitches for a moment, and he crosses his arms, looking torn. “i don't love _anyone.”_ He pauses.

 

“i'm not in it for the long term.” As he turns to look at you, you can feel your face heat up, hands pressing against your cheeks. He scoffs at your reaction, an eye ridge rising, but he makes no further comment on his statement or feelings.

 

“i think you owe them an explanation, gaster. it would be cruel to leave them in the dark after all you put them through.” Nova continues to stare at you, tilting his head as he quickly signs to you – too quickly for you to catch. You must look frustrated, because he repeats the signs slower, his back facing Gaster.

 

[can you read what I'm saying?]

 

You sign back, much slower. [I'm... _rustic_.] No, that wasn't right. You look frustrated for a moment, before remembering to sweep your right hand from your upper arm to your wrist. That was the right sign, keeping your fingers and palm straight to make the right phrase. [ _I have declined,_ ] You try to explain, indicating that you weren't as good with signing as you used to be. Besides that, they were using some signs that you'd never _seen_ before.

 

They were the same signs that Papyrus and Sans had used sometimes, between the two of them.

 

Gaster nods in reply to your explanation, his fingers slowing to tell his story in a pace easy for you to gather, making sure you're watching intently before he continues.

 

You couldn't understand most of the signs, but you got the gist of it – Sans and Papyrus were originally his _dogs_ , what he called his _blasters_. Gaster himself wasn't from this timeline, or even this particular _dimension_ , which made sense for why the monsters of Snowdin had stated that the two skeletons had just appeared out of thin air.

 

That didn't explain Gaster, though.

 

[Where... were you?] You ask, causing him to stop his explanation. His shoulders slump and he looks exasperated, but you feel determined when Nova's hand settles on your shoulder, giving you strength.

 

Gaster glares over your shoulder for a long moment until he answers.

 

[I fell into the CORE.] That was all the explanation he gave, which leaves you more confused, but you don't press the issue.

 

He continues to explain, and you don't understand most of it – something about _experiments,_ and _determination_ , and something about the _barrier_. Your head is spinning, and you look at Nova, who merely nods at you and waves at Gaster.

 

“enough, you old windbag. no need to ramble on so, frisk has no _bones_ to _rattle_. besides, i'm sure that they're _ischium_ to get back to their own timeline.” You blink at him and can't help but huff, _almost_ laughing but still feeling a bit downtrodden.

 

[That joke was much worse than your last.] Gaster signs.

 

“yeah? well, frisk thought it was funny. kinda hard to figure out what jokes are funny and what aren't when you have an audience that has no sense of humor.” Nova _smirks_ as he makes Gaster flustered, the skeleton turning away and _fading_ with the sound of a wind chime, clanging in the distance.

 

The void seems to lessen, the pressure much more bearable now, and Nova smiles at you, taking your hand and kissing your palm gently, making your face feel warmer than usual. You can't help but notice that there's holes in his palms as well, only they're filled with stars and constellations, the surface smooth and glassy. _It looked like he had a tiny supernova in his palm_. That explained the name.

 

“i'm sorry to say, but it might be best for your timeline if you reset.”

 

“... Reset!?” You begin to panic, and then your hands fly to your mouth. “I can talk!?”

 

“for now, yes. gaster has left for the moment, since i refuse to kiss his royal ass.” Your face feels much redder than before, and you can't help but frown at his choice of words, shoulders hunching.

 

“Sa...” You trail off, mollified, but Nova's gaze is gentle as he continues to stroke your hand. “I'm sorry. Nova, right? This is... a lot to take in, but... I can't reset. I promised–”

 

“hey, buddy. i know you made a promise, but i have a feeling that sansy will forgive you this one time.”

 

“Nova, I... I _can't_. I haven't saved in a long time, and if I reset _now_ , it will undo everything.” You can feel your eyes tearing up, and your teeth clench together as you fight your sadness.

 

Nova frowns now, leaning closer to you, his own pupils sad. “just a little secret between you and me, frisk... every time you feel determined? you're subconsciously saving.” He squeezes your hand, entwining his skeletal digits with your own soft fingers, glancing to them with a wistful expression.

 

You're at a loss for words, a sudden flare of hope rising within you.

 

“Fly, larkspur. Rescue your prince.” He looks so wistful, so lost, that you can't help but lean forward and give him a chaste kiss on the cheek, closing your eyes and feeling your tears fall.

 

“... thank you. You've... been the only kind one here.” You step back from him, watching as he places a hand on his surprised face, his eyes staring at you as you close your eyes and focus, finding your last SAVE.

 

In the hallway, holding both of the skeleton brother's hands.

 

Before you lost your soul a second time.

 

Before the brothers were forced to change into those horrible monstrosities that were _Blasters._

 

Before everything became unwound.

 

“Unfortunately... you'll remember... and the repercussions won't be amiable.”

 

You open your eyes to ask Nova what he means by that sentence, but you had already reset.

 

And by the time you focused on where he was in front of you, there's nothing there.

 

Not even the endless Void.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry this took so long to update. I tried to make this chapter extra long as an apology. I've been having problems with making ends meet, so I've been trying to pick up extra hours at work, which leaves less time for writing.
> 
> The holidays are also not very happy for me, and trying to fight depression during the holidays is very tiring.
> 
> Thank you EVERYONE for your patience. A huge thank you to SnailSnack and SmithyCreations for pelting me with endless videos and chatter sessions to help keep me in a cheery mood. Another huge thank you to everyone who left an amazing, heartfelt comment (not to mention bad puns) on the chapters, making writing for you all worthwhile.
> 
> This story is _far_ from over. I may take a few more days than usual to update now, but there is still quite a bit left of this story to write -- not to mention that it will most likely be a trilogy. I have SO MUCH planned.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I really enjoyed writing it, as well as exploring the different worlds, even though I didn't get to put _all_ of the worlds I wanted into it. I did, however, manage to put in my absolute _favorites_. ❤
> 
> Stay frosty, my friends. ❤
> 
> If you like what I do, [please consider donating](https://www.paypal.me/fether)? Thank you!


	19. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More problems arise... leaving you with more questions than answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. This took such a long time to write, but here's your late Christmas gift. Enjoy~
> 
> Fanart at the end of the chapter!

**Chapter 19 – Time**

 

 

 

You're bored.

 

Despite everything you've been through... despite all the slaughter done by your tiny little hands... you find yourself absolutely and utterly devoid of entertainment.

 

You're sitting on the flame demon's chest, your dagger tracing lightly over his abdomen, bursts of searing fire emitting from where you split the monster's skin. Your eyes slide over Grillby's face; his glasses are utterly cracked beyond repair, his mouth cracked apart into a fanged grimace, his flames a simmering smolder in lieu of his usual bright blaze.

 

“Oh, Grillby... _you_ remember the war. You've gotten soft, haven't you? Back then... _you never would have let me get this close_.” Your lips are mere inches from the side of his face, and delight shivers up your spine as he shudders at your words.

 

He still says nothing... but he continues to _stare_ at you with a _haughty_ expression. _Defying you_. Out of all the monsters, he remains one of the few to openly _resist_ , your actions having hardly any effect on him.

 

Your impassive demeanor falters, and you can't help but snarl in retaliation, flicking your wrist forward. The dagger sinks into his chest far too easily, the blade only halfway in before the monster _roars_ , crackling sounds of pain filling your ears – he almost sounds like a campfire that's slowly going out.

 

What a fitting analogy. You tuck that one in your mind for later use.

 

“Yes. _Scream_ for me, Grillby. I know you're fighting that rage, that inner _beast_...”

 

You don't expect retaliation after all you've done to him – despite everything, you're sent rolling across the ground by an unexpected punch to the jaw, and for a moment, all you can think about is how much your head is spinning.

 

The next moment, when you can fully think again, you're up and posed to defend yourself against any further attacks, but Grillby is still on the ground, his flames continually dying.

 

“... you're a lot weaker this time around, Grillby.”

 

You're surprised to find that you feel _disappointed_ , wanting an actual fight. Like old times. “... huh. I guess memories are a lot fonder when they're left in the past. _Nostalgia_. Revisiting things... just leaves you _disappointed_.” You approach the fire demon again, ignoring his attempts to scramble backward in a pitiful manner, his expression worn.

 

As much as he tries to deny you any sort of emotion, he started to lose it the moment you entered his restaurant. And the look on his face...

 

… _it had been priceless._

 

You would remember that image for years, _reveling_ in it for quite some time.

 

But now?

 

Now, you're just disappointed.

 

“... things used to be fun, you know? Revenge. Plotting. … death and murder.” You stare at your hands, shoulders slumping in sadness. You weren't _sorry_ for the things you had done, but everything had gotten... predictable.

 

Lackluster.

 

Boring.

 

It just wasn't worth it anymore.

 

You were second guessing yourself, and when you realized this, you realized that you'd been second guessing yourself for a long time.

 

It was only fun when Frisk was here.

 

And thanks to Gaster, Frisk was gone.

 

Even thinking about Gaster... it used to fill you with rage, determination filling your soul as you plotted your revenge, every action and step thought about in the most minute of details...

 

… but now?

 

Now, you were left with _nothing_.

 

You had a family, once. … you had _two_ families, and wrecked them both. Where had it gotten you, your revenge, your devious plots?

 

Dead and mummified and in the ground, left as a screaming spirit with a penchant for murder, to overtake a child who wanted nothing more than to show mercy to every living creature they met...

 

What kind of life was that?

 

And why now, of all times, had you decided to have a conscience?

 

_This was all Frisk's fault._

 

Closing your eyes, you turn away from the flame demon and walk out of the restaurant, not bothering to finish the job you'd started.

 

Nothing was the same.

 

Frisk was gone, thanks to Gaster.

 

Asriel was gone... thanks to _you_.

 

You're surprised to find yourself crying. You didn't think you could cry anymore.

 

You stagger, hands thrusting out to catch yourself before you see your limbs _disappearing_ , fading into thin air.

 

Was this what happened to ghosts who lost their will to go on?

 

… no. No, it _can't_ be. You're in Frisk's body, there was no way that this could be happening unless–

 

_You had reset._

 

Normally, you'd be angry at such a thing happening, but the only emotion you feel is... _the lack thereof_.

 

In silence, you look to the sky before closing your eyes, a breath escaping you before your borrowed body jerks violently, pain enveloping the entirety of you as you're thrown between worlds.

 

*****

 

Time seems to whirl around you in a myriad of colors as you rush backwards, multiple scenes of various timelines whipping past your eyes in a flash.

 

It hurts.

 

It _hurts_.

 

You slam against a wall, your breath ragged as you slide down, your chest hurting. Startled noises come from nearby you, and you open your eyes to see nothing but fangs, bony fingers outstretching for you.

 

You stare at them for a long moment, your mouth agape as you fight to breathe. Trying to scramble back, you don't realize that you cry out until Papyrus is flinching after having reached for you, a hurt expression on his face.

 

“F-FRISK...”

 

You have your arm up, and you warily – and slowly – lower it, tapping your teeth in silence, eyes still wide as you fight not to cry.

 

The skeleton brothers look at each other in confusion, and then realization dawns over both of their expressions as they see that the other has fangs protruding from their teeth.

 

 _'The repercussions won't be amiable.'_ The words echo in your head and you scramble back further, unable to prevent your body from shaking, the memory of the blasters fresh in your mind.

 

Behind the two skeletons, you see Percy leaning heavily on the wall next to the door, tears on his face as he presses a hand to his chest, unable to believe what had just happened.

 

 _It seems that everyone remember_ s.

 

This wasn't good.

 

“I was.... _I was dead_.” Percy is shaking worse than you are, and you don't even have the energy to reach for him, let alone call out for him. He's left to his own demons and personal vices, and your attention slides back to Papyrus and Sans, seeing their torn expressions as they sign to each other.

 

Sans looks heartbroken and _tormented_ , and you're surprised to see Papyrus remove his cape from his armor, handing it over to let Sans wrap it around his neck and lower jaw, effectively hiding his teeth.

 

Papyrus didn't look as worried as his brother did, obviously nonplussed about his own fangs. He slides an orange tongue against them, almost as if he was testing their durability before nodding in what seems to be satisfaction, and he reaches out for you once more.

 

You flinch, despite steeling your nerves.

 

“... Frisk. I am not going to harm you.” He states calmly and in a soothing manner, and all you can do is wrap your arms around your knees, not wanting to look at anything anymore.

 

You were terrified of them changing again.

 

Sans is quiet, not saying anything as Papyrus tries to comfort you, and it isn't long before you're picked up like you weigh nothing, chancing a glance to see that Papyrus has you in his arms, holding you close.

 

“Percy.” Papyrus spoke again, glancing back to the other human, blinking his eye sockets as the male noticeably jumped, his attention on the taller skeleton. “It would be best if you followed us to our house.”

 

“O-okay...” Came his staggered reply, and he moved mutely to follow your two friends, glancing to you with worry.

 

You don't say anything. You don't _look_ at anything. You merely stare straight ahead, unable to help leaning into Papyrus' chest, finding the gesture oddly comforting... despite everything you've been through.

 

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see Sans walking straight ahead beside Papyrus, not glancing at anything. He stares forward, but his pupils glance to you for a split second, meeting your eyes.

 

He's the first to look away after a moment, reaching up to make sure the red cloth was covering the entirety of his lower jaw, head completely turned away from you.

 

You feel your heart drop, and raise your hand... only to let it fall on your chest, teeth clenching together. Why did everything have to be so damn complicated?

 

As you leave the secure area, you all pile into Percy's car, none of you saying a word.

 

It's eerily quiet, Papyrus sitting in the back seat, still holding you while Sans takes the front passenger side, staring out the window.

 

You wish someone would say something. _Anything_. The silence is killing you inside, but you can't even bring yourself to speak, let alone even _look_ at the others without feeling guilt or sorrow well up inside of you.

 

You also find it odd that Chara is silent, as well.

 

Not a word, not a whisper.

 

It was almost like they were gone, but you knew, deep down... that it wasn't that easy.

 

Things were _never_ that easy.

 

It's quiet the whole way home, not a single word spoken.

 

It kills you inside, realizing that, just like when you were a child... in that moment, you had no voice to call your own.

 

*****

 

You've been home for a while, staying at your father's house as you sit at your dresser, staring into the mirror for a long time.

 

You'd lost track of the hours.

 

Percy had gone to sleep on your bed a while ago, but he doesn't sleep well. He keeps tossing and turning and crying out, and you can only imagine the nightmare that is plaguing his dreams.

 

Rising from your chair again, you walk over and place a hand on his forehead, using the other to calmly lower his hand and entwine your fingers with his. After a few moments, your friend calms and visibly relaxes, and you move to sit next to him on the bed, worry making your stoic guise falter.

 

You lower your head and stare at his hand, unbidden memories welling up inside of you.

 

You two had dated, a few times. You two had even gone so far as to sleep together, but... both of you had agreed, equally, that you were better off as mutual friends.

 

After all, it wasn't _your_ fault that he liked monsters better. You wince and press your hand and his against your forehead, tears welling up at the corner of your eyes. Your shoulders shake and you finally let your emotions go, setting his hand down in a gentle manner and retreating to your dresser again. You put your hands on the desk to support your weight as you stare at your ruddy face, tears freely falling, shoulders shaking as you don't hold back anymore.

 

None of your relationships ever lasted.

 

It was always either for the sex, for the fame, or... you and the other person had never worked out... because your personalities and desires clashed.

 

It was always the same, no matter where you went. No matter how much you tried, no matter how much _determination_ you had...

 

The end result never differed.

 

Even with Percy, the relationship hadn't lasted. You knew his full first name was Perseverance, which he _hated_. His family was well off, a line of lawyers and rule upholders beyond his great-great grandparents, notorious for how devious they were when fighting for what was right. A lot of them were record keepers, and having visited Percy's house a few times, there were many, many books that were hand written that were valued in the family. The records were irreplaceable, and it was one thing you admired in the man.

 

As far as you knew, you didn't have a history like that.

 

“... Frisk?” You jerk as you hear your name, reaching up to wipe away your tears and put on your stoic mask again.

 

“... yeah?” Your voice is flat and feels broken, but you duck your head down so that he can't see your face in the mirror. Luckily for you, he doesn't notice, too enamored with sleep. His voice is laced with tiredness.

 

“Did... did I really die?” Percy asks you, reaching up to remove his glasses and rub at his eyes as you turn to stare at him, contemplating for a long moment whether you should tell him the truth, or lie to him.

 

A pang pulls at your heart, and you realize that despite everything, you couldn't ever lie to your friends, even if the truth was worse than a lie.

 

“... yeah. You died. A lot... of people died.” You walk forward, knowing that your voice is wavering even though you're trying to remain strong. You sit on the edge of the bed again, watching as he sits up and replaces his glasses before reaching out for you, pulling you into a hug.

 

“So it wasn't a dream.” His fingers run lovingly through your hair, and you can't help yourself; the tears fall again, and you're shaking as you cry into his chest, letting him rock you in a soothing manner.

 

He doesn't try to shush you, and he doesn't try to tell you that everything is going to be okay.

 

Both of you know better.

 

After a long time, you calm down and pull away, rubbing your eyes with the base of your palms, feeling rather stupid. Percy reaches forward and grasps your wrists gently, pulling them down to stare at your face, reaching out to brush your hair from your eyes.

 

“It's strange... your hair is to your shoulders now. Wasn't it shorter earlier today...?”

 

“W-what?” You reach up in shock to feel the length of your hair, fingers running through the strands to end just past your shoulders, eyes wide. “H-how...”

 

And then Nova's words echo through your mind again, making you reel in realization.

 

A reset had never had this effect before, no matter how many times you went back.

 

… did it have something to do with Gaster?

 

“Hey. Hey.” Percy reaches up to tilt his head towards you, pressing his nose against yours. You scrunch up your own nose in mock horror, lips twisting. You're about to comment until he grins, continuing to speak.

 

“So... your skeleton friend. He's pretty hot.”

 

“... what.” You raise an eyebrow, still worried about your hair, among other things that could have gone wrong with Gaster in the equation. Why was Percy trying to change the subject?

 

 _To make you feel better_.

 

You couldn't deny that, and sighed, shoulders slumping.

 

“Yeah. He is.” You reach up to press a finger against his lips, trying to quell his humored gaze. “Don't. Don't you _dare_.”

 

“So... he's off limits?”

 

“Yes.” You feel your face grow hot. “I mean no!” Horrified, you try to backtrack now. “Wait, no, I mean–” Percy is laughing now, dropping his hands and leaning back.

 

“He's a good catch, and you deserve to be with someone who has your back.” It's his turn to look away now, and he looks ashamed. “Frisk, I never...” He breathes in, and you wait in silence, not wanting to interrupt him.

 

“I never got the chance to apologize.” Percy forces himself to look at you now, reaching up to run a hand through his black, wavy hair. “For the way I treated you. It wasn't fair, and the more I think about it, the more I feel like I just used you. Even though, at the time, it wasn't the case.” He looks so incredibly guilty that you find yourself shaking your head, disagreeing.

 

“No, Percy. We were both stupid teenagers, driven by lust more than anything else. And it wasn't like you used me to get to the position you are now.”

 

“... yeah.” Percy admitted, closing his eyes. “I still feel...”

 

“Guilty?” You smile. “Do you want me to show you some mercy?”

 

“I feel like I don't deserve it.”

 

“You do. Even though we aren't really compatible, I will still show you mercy.” You pause and lean forward, lips pursed. “I forgive you.”

 

“A-ah.” Percy's leaning away from you now, and you can't help but notice how hard he's blushing, his legs shifting away into a more comfortable position that isn't as compromising. _Oh_.

 

“W-well, Frisk, as hot as your boyfriend is, you're... a pretty good catch too.” He scratches the side of his face and pointedly looks away, a nervous grin on his face. “I... really don't want to get between you two, because you deserve to be happy. I mean, happy... _permanently_. Not just as a passing phase.”

 

You can't help but laugh. “Awww, Percy, are you giving me permission to date others?”

 

“Frisk, that's _not what I meant_.” He huffs, and _you're_ the one laughing now, still sad but at least your mood is lifting. “Anyway, I think you two would make a great couple. You've known each other for years, right?” You nod, and glance to the ground, biting your lip. He senses discomfort, and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“So... what's the problem?”

 

“The problem is trying to convince _him_ of that.” You can't help but sound bitter, and cross your arms. “And I can't help but feel like I fucked everything up.”

 

“How so?”

 

“They... they _changed_ , Percy. I can't get that out of my head. Claws and teeth lunging at me...” You trail off. _Not to mention Gaster,_ you thought to yourself, feeling bitter. You hoped that you could salvage _something_ , at least.

 

You know that the thoughts wouldn't leave for quite a while, though. Not to mention the nightmares... and you were _not_ looking forward to those.

 

Percy is white when you look at him again, and his gaze is fixed on the wall.

 

“... yeah,” Is all he says, and looks guilty all over again. “I'm... afraid I can't help with that, so... you're kind of on your own there, Frisk.” He sighs, looking apologetic, but his eyes are curious when they shift back to you. “... I do have another question.”

 

“Shoot.”

 

“Back there, when I died, and came back...” He pauses for a long moment, guilt and knowledge seen clearly in his eyes.

 

“... that was a _Reset_ , right?”

 

Your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach, realization sinking in like venom slowly coursing through your veins.

 

_How did Percy know about Resets?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to Smithy Creations for this _beautiful_ rendition of a scene in the last chapter! Oh man, I'm still just so blown away by it.
> 
>  
> 
> [Brotherly Confrontation](http://feth.tumblr.com/post/135697245643/smithyscreations-brotherly-confrontation)
> 
>  
> 
> If you have any fanart you want to throw my way, you can submit it to @feth on tumblr! :D 
> 
> If you like what I do, [please consider donating](https://www.paypal.me/fether)? Thank you so much!


	20. Bloodlines of the Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth about the Souls is revealed.

**Chapter 20 – Bloodlines of the Souls**

 

 

You stare, unable to feel anything but shock. You're left grasping for answers, feeling that the more you find out, the less you actually know about everything.

 

You feel even more out of the loop than before.

 

“How do you know about Resets...!?” Percy has the gall to look away, and you reach forward to grasp his ears, snarling now.

 

“ _Answer me_.”

 

“O-ow! Goddammit Frisk, that _hurts_!”

 

“So does not knowing everything! _How do you know_!?”

 

A throaty sound comes from the doorway as a hollow knock echoes on the wooden door, and you glance over to see Sans. The red scarf is still covering the lower half of his face, and you let go of Percy's ears, sliding off of the bed to walk over to your favorite skeleton.

 

“hey, kiddo. we need to talk.” He gestures you to follow him, and you turn to glare at Percy, pointing at your eyes and then to your friend.

 

“We're not done here.” You stare at him as you back up until he's out of sight, then move to follow Sans. His pace is quick for once, and you find that you have to half jog to keep up with him.

 

It isn't until you both are well out of the house until he stops, his back still turned to you.

 

“... why did you reset?”

 

“S-sans,” You start in surprise, only to stop when he whirls around, eyes glaring. You haven't seen him that angry in a long time.

 

“You _promised_ , Frisk. You promised you wouldn't reset... _and then you did_.”

 

“I didn't have a choice!” You shout back, spreading your arms out in a wide shrugging gesture. “Both you and Papyrus _changed_! You were _beasts_! You were going to _kill me_! What was I supposed to do!?”

 

He's silent, staring at you for a long, long moment.

 

“... we're done here.”

 

The statement sends you reeling.

 

“W-wait. What?” Shocked, you lower your hands, mouth gaping open. “Sans... what do you mean?”

 

“I told you.... it wasn't going to work out between us.” Closing his eye sockets, he turns away from you and starts walking, leaving you standing there.

 

“Sans!” You call out, but he doesn't stop. You're forced to chase after him, reaching forward, hand almost grasping his shoulder...

 

He slaps your hand away, making you recoil in confusion and hurt.

 

“ _Sans_.”

 

“don't touch me.” His eye is flickering between that familiar blue and gold, and you can't help but step backwards, at a loss for words.

 

You take a breath to recollect yourself before stepping forward again, earning a growl from him. You glare in return, grabbing him by his scarf and pulling him close.

 

“i told you not to touch me!” Sans tries to weasel out of your grip, but by this point your grip is tight, scarf down low enough to stare at the large fangs and gap in his front teeth, eyes widening in understanding.

 

_He resembled the heads that he used in the golden hallway._

 

“ _Sans_.” You mutter again, making him stop as you speak his name, eyes widening at the look in your eyes.

 

“k-kiddo.” He tries to reach up to dislodge your hand, but your grip is too strong, and you refuse to be dissuaded, determination filling your soul. You had to say your peace. _You had to._

 

“Sans. That was, by far, the most frightening experience I had to go through.” You hold up your other hand when he opens his mouth to speak, surprise flitting across your face for a moment. You don't remember that he was able to move his jaw before, but you push that thought aside for now. “Yes, I reset. Yes, I promised that I wouldn't. But _god damn_ it, Sans, what the hell else was I supposed to do? I thought you'd killed Papyrus. I thought you were going to kill _me_ , too.” Your grip loosens and you let go, stepping back to give him a little room.

 

He doesn't run away.

 

That's a good sign.

 

“I... traveled across different timelines. I saw different results. I met different versions of _you_... but they weren't the _same_.” Holding your hand out with your palm turned upward, you offer it to him, waiting for him to take it.

 

“I reset to save you and your brother. I reset to save the others who died. I reset out of _necessity_. Gaster pulled my soul from my body. I... don't know if you remember that.”

 

Sans' eyes are full of mixed emotions, and he looks away, teeth clenching together.

 

“I love you, Sans. I want a relationship with you, consequences be damned. I'm willing to try to make this work.”

 

“... we're too different. it... just won't work out between us.”

 

“You keep saying that, but I don't think those words mean what you think they do.” You wiggle your fingers, still waiting for him to take your hand. “Now, are you actually going to give me a chance, or are you going to continue running away, pretending that nothing ever happened?”

 

He's quiet for a long moment, seeming to mull it over. When he finally speaks, he still tries to argue the same point he's been sitting on for days. “you don't understand–”

 

“No, Sans. _You're_ the one who doesn't understand.” Lowering your hand, you cross your arms and breathe out slowly, a bit disappointed. You'd expected more, but after having been through _so many relationships_... you're tired of chasing. “I'm done, Sans. I'll be waiting, but I won't wait for you forever. Let me know when you change your mind.” This time, you're the one to walk away, leaving him standing there in silence.

 

He doesn't follow you.

 

 

*****

 

 

Surprisingly, Percy is still at your house when you return, but he looks like a cat caught in a chicken house when you step into the room.

 

“I told you we weren't done.” You state, crossing your arms as you lean against the doorway. “And I'm not in the best of moods right now, so you'd best start explaining yourself.”

 

A long breath escapes your friend, and you wait in silence as you stare at him, an eyebrow rising at his action. He's silent as well until his nervous ticks start up, hand tapping against his leg.

 

“... you know I hate it when you stare at me like that.” You incline your head forward, eyebrow arching further up as you continue to wait. “... and you know I hate it when you don't talk.”

 

You continue to say nothing, your lips curving further downward. You aren't very happy with him, but you know that if you stand your ground, he'll eventually give in.

 

“Okay. Okay.” He relents, putting his hands up. “I submit. If you want to know the whole story, we're going to have to make a detour to my house.”

 

“I think you mean mansion.” You state dryly, unimpressed.

 

“... yeah, yeah.” Putting his hand against his temple, he rubs his head and winces. “So... shall we head there?”

 

“Might as well.” You glance to the side, down the stairs. “I'll tell my family so they don't worry.”

 

“We'll be gone for a few hours,” Percy says softly, getting your attention. You stare at him with a cool gaze, not understanding the reason for his sudden shiver at the shift of red in your eyes.

 

“Perfect.”

 

 

*****

 

 

You're in the large library room of Percy's family mansion, and despite having been here before multiple times, your breath is still taken away from the awe you feel stepping into such a place. You always loved books growing up, finding a kinship with whatever you could get your hands on, your reading comprehension very high for a child of your age, which made Toriel _so proud_.

 

Even now, staring at the walls upon walls of books, you feel like you're in a movie. There's a staircase that spirals up and up, higher than your eye can see where it ends; the bookshelves themselves are free of any sort of dust or debris, and the books sitting on the shelves look well cared for, despite there being a vast number of them.

 

No, not a single speck of dust is seen anywhere.

 

This was definitely a family who loved their history.

 

“What I'm about to show you...” Percy murmurs to you softly, making a motion with his hand for you to follow. “Has to be kept between us. I'm not even supposed to show anyone our history, because they consider it _sacred_...”

 

Your interest is piqued, but years of practice keeps your face stoic. He approaches a locked door that seems plainer than the rest of the doors. It is brown and thick, no ornate designs decorating this like they decorated rest of the house.

 

He has a key that he procured from _somewhere_ , the lock shifting with a _click_ as he opens the door to let you in. When both of you step inside, the first thing you notice is how everything is _placed_.

 

There's a wooden lectern in the middle of the room, a large book lying on it and bound shut with an ornate lock, very large in size. It's a lock that you have never seen before, and the key itself had to be massive to even _attempt_ to open it. You also figure that the book must weigh a ton. A _skele_ ton.

 

_And there you go again, with the terrible jokes._

 

You hide a smile, feeling giddy despite the sadness laced with the joke you thought of. You can't help but feel that the voice that spoke is Chara, though they're still strangely quiet, despite that tiny outburst of dismay at your terrible thought-pun.

 

“Frisk?” Percy's question snaps you out of your thoughts, and you stride over to take the book he's holding out for you, worn and well read. It looks like a fairy tale book, the cover embossed and corners dog eared, and when you flip it open, you see pictures covering the entirety of every page.

 

Your gaze slides from the book to stare in front of you, your thoughts too overwhelming – you're slowly piecing parts of the strange puzzle together.

 

You slowly turn the pages, reading through the book as your fingers sliding over the images.

 

There are no words to accompany the illustrations.

 

The first page of the book shows six children in a circle around a child in the middle, each holding a heart of their own respective colors. Each child was of a different color, their souls floating above them.

 

Different shades of the soul.

 

The child in the middle was the only one with a red soul.

 

_Red, Aqua, Orange, Blue, Purple, Green, and Yellow._

 

For some reason, the colors resonate with you, and you can't help but trace your finger over each colored soul as you think of the color, breathing slowly.

 

Turning the page shows the hearts half sunken into the bodies, the children running away from the child in the middle, the only one with a broken heart. It's split into two, and you find it strange that there's an older body lying at the feet of the child that was in the middle of the circle.

 

You find it even stranger to find tears running down your face. You're surprised when you wipe the liquid away, not wanting to stain the pages of the book. With shaky fingers, you turn to the next page and see the next scene more brutal than the last; there are many more people depicted here, with souls evident on their chests. Children are mixed with the adults, all of them carrying weapons... charging forth into what looked to be a battle.

 

The next page is even worse.

 

Bodies litter the ground with smudges of red, what you assume to be blood; the scene startles you, and as you turn the pages in a faster succession, you feel your determination waning.

 

Monsters fighting the humans.

 

More death, but repeated scenes with less death of humans and more deaths of monsters.

 

Were they depicting _Resets_?

 

Horror fills your soul. It was no wonder that the humans had very little losses on their side, considering that _they had the power to Reset_. In a war, knowing where your enemy was going to be was _everything_. And if the red soul had the power to Reset... they would know all of their enemy's movements, their plans, _where they would be..._

 

_That was how we won. But... the price was still too great. Too... much._

 

You reach the end of the book and finally see a text passage, your eyes scanning over it hungrily, wanting to know just how they wrote down _their_ history.

 

_The magi were quiet, inquisitive. They had a peace with the monsters. One day, the peace was broken; a SOUL was taken, the law broken. This evoked a war due to this, and after trial and error, the monsters were finally driven out and sealed inside a barrier of sacrifice. A price had to be paid. For each layer of the barrier, a soul of the magi had to be given up...but this also made it so that further souls could cross the barrier of their own making, if they so wished..._

 

At first, you had thought it was just a fairy tale book, a story depicting a rather strange version of the history you'd grown to love and cherish from the monster's side of things.

 

Slowly and surely... it all becomes clear to you. After all, there are always two sides to every story.

 

“... this... this changes _everything_.” You state in awe, glancing over at Percy who's almost asleep in a lounge chair, eyes half lidded as he attempts to keep awake for your benefit.

 

“O-oh. Yeah. Well, until recently, I thought it was just a myth, but... our family has been record keepers for _years_.” He blinks owlishly at you, attempting to stifle a yawn but failing.

 

“ _Apparently_. And according to this...” You walk forward to show him the picture book, and open it to trace a gentle finger over the pages. “...children of the bloodline of the magi were the only ones able to cross the border. It would make sense that the were the only ones who _could_ , considering that they sacrificed their own to _make_ the border.”

 

Everything slid together like puzzle pieces, two halves of different sides... fitting together to mold the entire picture instead of one side like you were used to.

 

The monsters had needed seven human souls to break the barrier... because it took seven human souls to _make it in the first place_.

 

You feel sick.

 

“According to the records... the _leaders_ were the only ones able to Reset.” Percy sits up now, his attention fully on you. “They're the souls of _determination_. This makes perfect sense, seeing as how you're the Ambassador.”

 

You turn to stare at him, a wormy feeling sinking into the pit of your stomach. “I don't like where you're going with this, Percy.”

 

“Are you _determined_ , Frisk?” Percy rises from the chair and approaches you, almost seeming like an animal with the way his shoulders are rolling forward, fingers curling...

 

“Percy...” You warn, stepping back and colliding with the lectern, sending it rocking, the book teetering precariously on it. Percy lunged forward, catching the book as he fell on the floor, a huff escaping him as his stomach slammed against the ground.

 

“Care... _Careful_ ,” He breathed heavily, adjusting his glasses and wincing as the lectern fell with a loud _bang!_ “This one... can't be replaced. We keep the records of the bloodlines in this, after all.”

 

“Wait... _what_?” You've gained your balance back, and stare at him with shock. “What do you mean, record?” Was there _more_ Percy was keeping from you?

 

“All of the children of the magi... their records, the lineage... all recorded in this book right here.” He looks up at you as he adjusts his glasses again, shifting to stand up, arms cradling the book with tenderness you've never really seen from him before. “My family's in here, and... so is yours, Frisk.”

 

You can't help but narrow your eyes, your body cold. “I _have_ a family, Percy. I have a mother who's name is Toriel, and a father who's name is Asgore.”

 

“But haven't you ever wondered who your _real_ parents are, Frisk? Haven't you ever felt destined for something _greater_?”

 

“I'm pretty sure that being an _Ambassador_ is pretty high on that list, Percy.”

 

“But imagine, you could be even _higher_ than that–” Both of you jump in surprise as the door slams open, your body instinctively tucking the picture book behind your back as you shift closer to Percy. _As if he can shield you from the figure in the doorway._

 

“You aren't supposed to _be in here_!” It's Percy's grandfather. He looks very angry as he storms over to you, reaching out and grabbing your arm, tugging you sharply and unkindly towards the door. You stumble and catch your balance, eyes flaring open as you grit your teeth together.

 

“ _Foolish boy_. These tomes are for the _family line only_. I don't care how close you are to the Ambassador, you don't just share our secrets for _the whole world to know_ –”

 

“You _dare_?” You interrupt, feeling rage build up inside of you. Why was he grabbing you like this? Percy may have not been allowed to show you a secret family history, but there was _no reason_ to treat you this way. Why did no one ever use their _words_ instead of _force_?

 

When the man looks at you again, he stops _cold_ , his eyes growing wide and mouth opening and closing as he lets go of you completely. He looks like a fish out of water as he stares at you with an expression you can only label as _reverence_ , continuing to flap his jaw in silence, until he falls to his knees. You take a step back now, the anger fading in an instant as unease fills your soul.

 

“Oh, great leader Chara.” The man begins, and you feel your stomach plummet. “ _You have returned_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what I do, [please consider donating](https://www.paypal.me/fether)?
> 
> All fanart can be submitted to my tumblr: [@feth](http://feth.tumblr.com). Thank you!


	21. Gradual Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk gets a new look, and an incident occurs...

**Chapter 21 – Gradual Change**

 

 

“I am not Chara.”

 

You can't _believe_ you're arguing this point.

 

Percy looks absolutely _mortified_ , and you feel the book leave your hands behind your back, freeing your arms. You cross your arms now that you're not holding anything, leveling your stare at the grandfather with disbelief.

 

“Are you not the leader? Are you not the Ambassador of the Monsters?” You can feel your lips twist downward, not sure where he's going with this point of his.

 

“Yes...”

 

“Then you are Chara.”

 

You can feel your eye twitch, and you have to take a deep breath to attempt to calm yourself.

 

“ _I am not Chara_.” You repeat, and feel your fingers dig into your flesh – your attempt to keep a calm attitude despite the situation.

 

“But you ARE Chara! Your eyes do not lie!”

 

 _What's so special about my eyes?_ You can't help but wonder, your tongue sliding against your teeth as you fight your temper. You've been losing it more often than not lately, and it wasn't a good feeling.

 

“Grandfather, she can't use magic like we can.”

 

Your head snaps to the side. _Magic? **Humans?**_ This didn't make any sense...! You were taught throughout your whole life that only monsters were able to use magic, until your mind reels back to the book you just read.

 

Wait.

 

The Magi.

 

_The Magi._

 

You can feel your head spinning with too much information and not enough facts. _How is it possible for humans to have magic? How was it possible for them to have magic in the beginning? **How was it possible that they were able to put up the barrier?**_

 

Sacrifice.

 

“Oh, _god_...”

 

The sick feeling you had earlier returned to you in full force, and you grab Percy's arm, dry heaving next to him.

 

“... we're leaving.” Percy's voice is full of conviction, and he glares through his cloudy glasses at his grandfather, moving one of your arms over his shoulder as he shoves past the older man.

 

“... you'll be back, Chara. And when you do... _the answers will be waiting for you_.”

 

You don't comment, your hand pressing over your mouth in horror in an attempt to hold back the strong nausea you feel.

 

You can feel the old man's eyes on you as you both leave, not even daring to glance back at the intense gaze he's giving you.

 

As you turn the corner to leave the mansion, you hear a few numbers dialed and a soft voice murmuring, _“Bring in the rest of the Magi. Chara has returned.”_

 

\-----

 

You still feel numb, staring dumbly in front of you as you're led by Percy, a part of you thankful that you don't have to mentally deal with things right now.

 

Because right now, as it stood, the entirety of the world you thought you knew was shattered in a few moments.

 

“Frisk. Hey, Frisk.” You're shaken, and you look over to Percy, having to concentrate to focus on him. All you want to do right now is block everything out, but you know deep down that you can't do that, and that Percy was on your side.

 

Despite how much he was hiding.

 

It was understandable, now.

 

“... I'm sorry. I didn't... realize.” You avert your gaze, wrapping your arms around your chest and hugging yourself.

 

“It's... it's okay. I know it's a lot to take in. I'm sorry too. I mean, I kind of knew, but... I hoped that you wouldn't be roped into that, you know?”

 

“... yeah.”

 

“... you, uh... want to go get a haircut? I don't think anyone else has noticed...” He reaches out and brushes his fingers through your hair, and you let out a pleased sound, unable to help but lean into him. His arms wrap around you in a familiar gesture, and you two stop walking, enjoying the comfort in each other.

 

“... yeah. A change might be nice.” You feel like you could cry, but a wave of numbness just washes over you, making you feel languid and tired. A new haircut just might be something to help your mood, though you don't really feel like dealing with your emotions at this current point in time.

 

“It's going to be alright, Frisk.” The tenseness in his fingers tells you otherwise, but you nod and pull away, pinching the bridge of your nose as you let out a long sigh.

 

“Some coffee would be nice. And yeah... I probably should get a haircut.” You reach up and make a face, looking at your long hair, wondering just _why_ and _how_ it had managed to grow so long.

 

Being in an alternate dimension had its side effects, you supposed.

 

Piling into his car without another word, you lean against the window and stare out at the scenery passing you by, relaxing. It was nice hanging out with Percy. You'd missed him, and after seeing him dead, you realize... just how busy you had actually been.

 

You didn't want to waste time like that, knowing someone you cared about could be gone. Just like that...

 

You decide right then and there to make sure to spend time with all your friends and family. After all... it was almost Christmas, wasn't it...?

 

“We're here, Frisk.” Percy turns off his car as he pulled into the parking spot, shifting it into park before stepping out. You follow suit, shutting the door gently as you glance over the model.

 

You don't know much about cars, but you always thought it was pretty – a sapphire blue with white stripes down the sides, and chrome... what were they? Hubcaps? They went over the wheels.

 

Papyrus would be ashamed by your lack of knowledge, and you sigh, covering part of your face before you catch up with Percy.

 

“I'll be paying, of course,” Percy stated, mouth opening to say something else, but you're bowled over the moment the door closes behind you.

 

“DARLING!!” You're swept off your feet and spun around, held close to a familiar metallic body. “I didn't know you came _here_! I own this salon, what a _surprise_!” You can't help but grin as you pull back to stare at Mettaton, laughing.

 

Because _of course_ he owned the salon.

 

“Did you come in for...” He stops as he sets you down, fingers holding your hair as he's _staring_ at it, lips curved downward in a most disapproving manner. Panic courses through you as you stare at your long time friend, though you fight to keep a stoic face.

 

_Did he notice it was longer?_

 

“... no, this just won't do. I will get you my _best hairdresser_ and it will be _on the house_ , darling.” His hand slides to your chin to tilt your head up, his eyes soft. “We can't have our dear Ambassador looking slovenly, now can we?”

 

“No... I suppose not.” You sigh and slump your shoulders, being led to one of the chairs as you glance back to Percy. “Coffee. Please. _The strongest there is_.”

 

Bless Percy for leaving without another word – he exits out of the shop, leaving you alone with a fretting robot and a calm-mannered hair stylist.

 

“Now, sweetie... _let's talk about you and Sans._ ”

 

 _Now_ you're grumpy.

 

“What _about_ Sans?”

 

“Sweetheart, you two have been dancing circles around each other for _years_. Everyone's noticed. The tension is high, and so is the _drama_. I'm surprised you haven't picked up on it.”

 

“... it's a shame he doesn't feel the same about me,” You mutter darkly, wincing as the comb is run through your hair, a disgruntled noise escaping out of your nose.

 

“Are you really that blind, darling? My, my my,” Mettaton states, putting a hand on his face as he tuts at you. “You really don't see the way he looks at you, do you? Of course, he does it when he thinks _you're_ not looking. Two starstruck lovers. But will the starstruck lovers ever meet? Oh, how fate has decreed...”

 

Mettaton is off on a tangent again, and you start to tune him out, earning a gentle, reassuring pat from the hairdresser. You make a scowl in the mirror, nose scrunching up, and the hairdresser coughs back a laugh as she shakes her head in amusement.

 

At least one of you was humored.

 

There was a long silence, and you shift your gaze to stare at Mettaton, jerking slightly when you realize just how close his face is to yours.

 

“Do you trust me, darling?”

 

“It depends on what it is, Mettaton.”

 

“Your _haircut_ , of course! I have just the thing in mind. It's new, it's _chic_ , and it will definitely boost your ratings after that minor _fiasco_ with the publicity.”

 

Oh. Right. _The paparazzi._ That particular scene had been a nightmare, and it makes you remember that you have to make a public statement sometime soon.

 

“... yeah, okay. Why not?” What do you have to lose? “I trust you, Mettaton.” And you did. Because if anyone knew how to boost one's ratings with _looks_... it was Mettaton.

 

“Fabulous, darling! You won't be disappointed, I _promise_ you. And neither will Sans, tut tut.” He dances over to where the books of hair styles are located, grabbing a stack and flipping through them with vigor. You haven't seen him _this_ excited in a long time.

 

Sighing and pressing a hand to your chest, you wince out of _habit_ , but after a moment of thought, you realize... _there's no pain_. More panic sets in, and you begin to glance down, stopping when the hairdresser makes an aggravated noise.

 

You can't look now.

 

 _Was that another thing that had changed in the void?_ Your wound gone, completely? Just like _that_?

 

It seems too good to be true.

 

“This one, darling.” Mettaton is showing the book to the hairstylist, and she nods in response, making a pleased sound.

 

You lean your head back to get a peek for yourself, but grimace when Mettaton taps your nose in a polite manner. “Now, now. _Spoilers_.” He winks at you and closes the book with a resounding _snap_ , all grins as he leans against the dresser in front of you.

 

“Make her look _fabulous_. Frisk deserves it, after all. Style. The _style_ , darling. Oh, it's very fitting.”

 

“Should I be scared?”You wonder out loud, attempting to give the robot a pointed glare. Of course, it has no effect whatsoever. His head's too far up in the clouds for him to even care.

 

“Oh, _no_ , darling. You'll _like_ it. And... so will Sans.” He winks at you again, and you make a grumbling sound, succumbing to your fate. Did you really have a choice, when it concerned _Mettaton_?

 

You decide to let your thoughts wander. You have a lot to think about, especially when you'd _met the magi_. Percy had said something about... them being able to use magic – honest to god _magic_.

 

You didn't think it was ever possible for a human to use magic. You'd been raised to believe that only _monsters_ had that ability.

 

Despite Percy pulling you away from the situation, and stating that he didn't want to get you involved... well. You were most certainly involved _now_.

 

_This isn't good._

 

You know from experience that Chara is speaking, and your thoughts turn more inward, concentrating on the being inside of you. _Demon_ , they'd been called before.

 

You were beginning to believe that that wasn't the case. Not anymore.

 

_Do you have experience... with them?_

 

… _yes and no._

 

_Care to elaborate?_

 

… _no._

 

The voice sounds _sad_ now, so you don't press the issue. Ever since you'd come back from the void, Chara has been... not so _keen_ on taking control of you.

 

Almost like they are... _glad you are back_.

 

It's a strange feeling. One you're not quite sure you're used to, yet.

 

“There we go, darling.” Mettaton's voice cuts into your thoughts like a knife through soft butter, his hands turning your head towards the mirror.

 

You let out a small gasp.

 

Part of your hair falls to your jaw, while the side of it is _shaved to the skin_.

 

“I believe humans call this an _undercut_. Oh, darling, I _do_ hope you like it. It definitely _suits_ you and frames your face _so well_.” The robot sounds proud of himself, and you stand and turn to hug him, gripping tight as you turn to stare in the mirror again.

 

You pull away after he hugs you back, leaning close to the mirror and moving your hair to the other side, tilting your head to get a better look. “... you shaved _both_ sides?”

 

“Yes, darling. So you can wear your hair to whatever side you prefer.”

 

“I rather like it,” The hairstylist commented, earning a smile from Mettaton. She winks at you, setting the comb on the table as she glances to the robot, snapping her fingers at him in a flirty manner. “I'm going to lunch. I'll be back in an hour, boss.”

 

“Of course, darling. You've done a _wonderful_ job. Thank you.” He blows her a kiss that you feel is fully platonic (especially with the way she _snorts_ at him), and you watch the hairstylist walk out the door while you're left still running your fingers through your hair.

 

“... did she _highlight_ it too?” You see _reddish blonde_ streaks in your hair, highly complimenting the mousy brown you were so used to.

 

You're liking this hairstyle a lot.

 

“... thank you so much, Mettaton.” You smile at him – really _smile_ , and give him a thumbs up. You find it strange when he actually _blushes_ , but you can't comment on it – you hear a low whistle from the doorway.

 

“Wow, Frisk. … _damn_. I really... have no words.” Percy walks towards you and presses the large coffee cup into your hands, reaching out to run _his_ fingers through your hair. You drop your hands and blush, feeling very... _pretty_ , all of a sudden.

 

It's a feeling you're not used to.

 

_You remind me of my sibling..._

 

The statement catches you off guard, and you nearly drop your coffee, jerking to hold it. You're shaking now, pressing the coffee to your lips and drinking heartily. It's still hot, but it has cooled off enough to drink – or rather, _chug_ , in your case.

 

“Whoa. Looks like you really needed that coffee after all, huh?” Percy looks guilty. “I'm sorry I didn't get it to you sooner. I kinda... ran into some trouble.” He sheepishly rubs the back of his head and laughs nervously, making you eye him warily. You don't ask – you're too tired to care at this point, _and_ he's brought you coffee.

 

It's a decent day, all other matters aside, in your book.

 

“Does the hairstylist accept tips?” Percy asks Mettaton, leaning around you to eye the robot with... oh jeez, was he actually _flirting_?

 

You didn't want any part of this. Mettaton was _family_. It was just... _weird_.

 

“Welp. I'm going to Grillby's.” You toss up your free hand and walk out the door, hearing them give you a farewell before they devolved into random chatter between the two of them.

 

_No. Not Grillby's. PLEASE._

 

_Why?_

 

You don't receive an answer back, and shrug as you take another hearty sip of your coffee.

 

The walk is nice, you find, the air crisp and smooth as it blows through your moussed hair. You can't help but smile in happiness, feeling like the day was only getting better from there.

 

You're almost to Grillby's when you hear a scuffle in the nearby alleyway, and your senses feel _wrong_ when you turn and see _magic_ thrown around in a flashy manner.

 

 _Oh NO_.

 

You down the rest of your coffee, glad there isn't much left before you drop it on the ground and rush into the alleyway. Humans had been attacking monsters as of late, and right now, _you don't want to see another one die_. Not on _your_ watch. _Not this time_.

 

There are spinning knives of light blue magic that slide past you, and you know from _experience_ to not move a muscle – it doesn't make a damn bit of difference when you feel pain shoot across your arm. You look down and see a shallow cut across your forearm, hissing in pain.

 

That's _strange_. It isn't _supposed_ to hurt you – you know from Papyrus' attacks underground that the bones go _right through you_ , and had never _hurt_ like this before.

 

Did magic work _differently_ up here, for the monsters...?

 

Your answer comes instantly.

 

It isn't a monster that is using magic.

 

It's a human. Using magic... on _another human_.

 

“... _PAT?_ ” You're _stunned_.

 

“F-Frisk?” Pat turns to you, her eyes wide with surprise and _fear_ – her attacker takes the moment to use the distraction to his advantage, raising his fist and moving it to punch her in the face–

 

“ **NO.”** Your voice comes out bold, hand rising as you step forward, palm out. Your hand is glowing red, but you pay it no mind – you _have_ to save Pat. **“WALK AWAY. Leave, and I'll let you go. We don't want a problem here.”**

 

The attacker looks at you, and you see a tall, scruffy man who's probably seen better days, his expression looking... _lost_. Forlorn. He's dressed in a tan coat that's stained in several places, beat up jeans, and a black tee shirt with many holes decorating the front.

 

Compared to Pat's nicer dress clothes, it's no wonder why he picked her as a target to steal from.

 

He steps towards you, and you tense up before realizing that he's ambling by you without another care, his body staggering as if following some unknown command that he's unable to resist.

 

You're shaking, and Pat is instantly at your side, hugging you tightly while you lower your arm.

 

“I... I... _thank you_ , Frisk. I had no idea you were a magic user as well, I just...”

 

“... wait.” You turn to her, your own eyes wide. “I'm not... I don't... _you're a magi_?”

 

“No,” Pat murmured softly, shaking her head vehemently. “I didn't join them. It was _my choice_ not to join them. I... don't really agree with some of their beliefs. It's... almost like a _religion_ to them.” She's still shaking her head when you realize – magic users and magi were _different_. Percy's grandfather had specifically called them the _magi_ , which makes you wonder... was it a _group_?

 

They were still magic users.

 

There are so many questions running through your mind, and you realize that you have _no clue_ where to even _begin_ to ask.

 

Your stomach grumbles, and Pat pulls away from you with a grin, shoulders hunching in a sheepish manner. “I'm, uh, sorry. You were probably heading somewhere for lunch, right?”

 

“Yeah. I was just... headed to Grillby's. Do... you want to have lunch with me?”

 

After a moment's thought, Pat shakes her head and smiles further. “No. Thank you, but no. I... should get going, I have other things I have to take care of. But... I can give you my number, so we can plan a lunch date later?” She looks so hopeful, so _yearning_ for a friend that you smile in return and give her your number. You still have so many questions floating around in your mind that you can't really focus, and you're left dazed when she waves her goodbye and walks off, leaving you alone in the alleyway.

 

What... had just _happened?_

 

Shaking and staring at your hand, you see that the red glow has long since faded. You wince when you feel the pang of hunger again, sighing and walking out of the alleyway – making sure to pick up your discarded coffee cup and throw it in the trash can.

 

You didn't want to litter.

 

It isn't long before you walk into Grillby's, smiling and relaxing at the atmosphere. You raise your hand to wave at Grillby, walking towards the flame monster behind the bar – your breath is forced out when you're _slammed_ against the wall, pinned by a force you didn't expect.

 

“... so.” Grillby's flames are so heated that you feel yourself sweating, your throat dry. One hand is on your wrist, pinning it, while the other is pressing against your _throat._ You've _never_ seen the flame monster look so _upset_ – especially at _you_.

 

“... when... were you going to tell me about Chara?”

 

_He remembered._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay and lateness of this chapter! I didn't want to leave you hanging and wanted to give you guys the chapter so far - it's fully updated now!
> 
> I had SO MUCH on my plate. Had to work extra shifts, and _then_ I had a sickness that lasted for two weeks that we think turned into pneumonia?? Fun stuff. Yeesh.
> 
> I wanted to post half of it on Valentine's day, because that day is actually my birthday!! I had a lot of fun, and got a LOT of fanart just for Sans (especially since I have a roleplay account just for him - I kinda got sucked into a certain pairing on there _besides_ the SansxFrisk pairing. _SOBS QUIETLY IN THE CORNER._ )
> 
> Feel free to send birthday wishes (or just general chatter!) and/or any fanart to my tumblr: [right here!!! @feth](http://feth.tumblr.com) I really need to update it more, and I only have a few chapters on there so far - I'm currently going through all the former chapters and changing a bit of the wordage because I used the wrong tense, and it's driving me crazy. Worth it, though. Makes for better writing, in the end.
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me! I really, really, _really_ appreciate you guys. You have no idea how much your comments mean to me. They make my day.


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